Marc's Secret Pt. 03

MARC'S SECRET, PART 3

by Dani Sweets

So, let's take stock, shall we Marc? You'd been coming to work for months dressed like a man on the surface, but a woman underneath. With no recollection of ever putting on panties, stockings or a corset - until you gave up fighting the compulsion and started doing it deliberately. And then, again without choice, started adding touches of makeup, not to mention nail polish. While simultaneously going way further in private with both clothes and makeup, egged on by your former crush and now bestie coworker. Who was herself turning male, a process you were helping her counter by the brilliant strategy of donating your clothes and exercise regime, and teaching her about football.

And now your employer had announced your intention to transition to being female. Which (spoiler!) you had not actually intended. Or not consciously at any event. And you'd somehow agreed to go out and "celebrate" with the receptionist, Emily, and a bunch of her girlfriends.

So that left you with a challenge, as you stared at the email that had just changed your life. How did they put it in that stupid old film you inexplicably liked? Oh yes, that was it. Pop quiz, hotshot! What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?

What you actually did first was try to call Ivy, who had not yet arrived at work. Because of course you did. But she wasn't answering. Then you tried, but failed, to resist the urge to rummage inside your satin panties, to check your equipment was still there. It was, fortunately. There was also something inside your bra. But a quick and surreptitious squeeze confirmed it was just your A-cup silicone breast forms, which were easily concealed under your shirt. The Cs and Ds you often now wore at Ivy's had mercifully not yet turned up at the office.

You were about to try Ivy again, when her boyfriend Greg appeared. "Got a minute?" he asked.

Your heart rate, already fast, went up a notch. "Um, sorry Greg, if it's about that report..."

"No, no," he said, waving his hands for emphasis. Like the rest of him, they seemed to be built on a slightly bigger scale to everyone else. He peered down at you, through the horn-rimmed glasses that marked what seemed his only physical imperfection, though the magnification they provided to his blue eyes did nothing to spoil his looks. "I just wanted to check you were okay. Quite the day, huh?"

"Uh, yeah you could say that." Despite your turmoil, you smiled. Back when he was the man most obviously standing between you and the (admittedly unlikely) prospect of romantic bliss, you had disliked him on principle, even though he had never been anything other than polite and friendly. But as you had got to know him, and lost your infatuation for his girlfriend, he had grown on you considerably. And his genuine air of concern seemed to strike just the note you needed right now. "But thanks for asking."

You reached out to touch his arm, a gesture you had unconsciously copied from Ivy. He returned the smile, seemed on the verge of saying something else, but then settled for an offer to let him know if there was anything he could do.

That was an easy one to answer. "Maybe don't come and yell at me when you see what I've drafted?"

He gave an impish grin. "Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes and shooed him away, but you were definitely feeling better than you had a few minutes earlier. Nevertheless, you tried Ivy again and this time she picked up. You arranged to meet in a cafe that was fairly near the office, but that served such disgusting coffee that few of your coworkers patronised it.

"So, what are you going to do?" asked Ivy, after satisfying herself that no similar announcement had been made about her.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I mean, it would be ridiculous to tell HR to put out a correction, wouldn't it? Assuming I could even get myself to say that..."

"But I mean, you don't really want to go through with it, do you?" She grabbed your arm before you could answer. "Wait, you're not already, like... taking hormones or anything?"

"No... or at least I don't think so," you replied slowly. The possibility hadn't even occurred to you. You frowned as you considered it. "I mean I don't reckon... things have changed. Like my voice, or..."

Your eyes strayed downwards to your chest, then lifted again to see Ivy looking in the same direction. You caught her eye and giggled. "Still flat as a pancake, before you ask."

She chuckled in response. "Okay, so no hormones. Yet," she emphasised, her face becoming more serious again. She bit her lip. "But if you had the choice?"

"I'm not sure I do," you answered. "I mean, I could resign and look for a job elsewhere, but what if the same thing keeps happening? Besides, I..." You hesitated. "What do you think? Can you see me as... as a girl?"

"Totally," answered Ivy without hesitation. "I mean, you alrea-"

She cut off as your phone rang. You glanced at the screen. "Fuck, it's Mum again. That's the third time she's tried in the past half hour. I think I should take it." You took a sip of your flat white, winced, then hit the callback button. "No, it's fine babe," you added, waving Ivy to stay where she was, as she made to stand up.

The conversation that followed was not a happy one. Your mother wanted to know why you'd felt it necessary to leave a letter on the mantelpiece about your decision, rather than actually talk to her and your father.

"I mean, we could see you were... changing. Even though you never said anything." The hurt in her tone was obvious. "But surely you must have known we'd support you, whatever you decided?"

You apologised, muttering something about finding it difficult to talk in front of Jenna.

"Don't use your sister as an excuse," came the admonishment. "Heaven knows she can be... difficult. But you could have spoken to us on our own. Besides, she's been saying how good you've been looking, and how much happier you seem."

That surprised you. "Not to me, she hasn't!"

"Well, she wouldn't, would she?" You had to acknowledge the force of that point. The conversation ran on for another five minutes, mostly spent fending off a series of questions about practicalities you hadn't even begun to consider, before you excused yourself with the need to "get back to work."

You looked at Ivy. "We probably should, you know. Head back." As you rose, you asked what the story was with her and Greg. You were keen to steer the conversation away from your own dilemmas. But for reasons you couldn't quite articulate, it also seemed quite important to know the answer.

Ivy let out a heavy sigh. "We're... not a thing. Haven't been for a while."

You raised an eyebrow as you reached the street and started walking back to the office. "You're... not into him anymore?"

"No, or, well yes... I mean I still like him, he's a great guy." You nodded at that. "But it's hard to explain, I just found I wasn't interested in him, you know, that way. And the thing is, it was... mutual, I think. So, we just... stopped seeing one another. And besides..."

"You've found someone else?" She gave a small nod. "So don't keep me in suspense! Who is it? Anyone I know?"

Her expression was unreadable. "Sorry Marc, I... I'll tell you soon, I promise." And try as you might, you couldn't pry any more information out of her.

The rest of the day passed surprisingly quickly, as you focused on work to keep your mind off the many implications of the day's announcement. When you returned to the foyer at 5:30pm to keep your appointment with Emily, you found her with a gaggle of other young women, mostly from the support staff, though one or two had similar jobs to yours in other sections. They all stared at you in open astonishment.

As always, it was the receptionist who found her voice first. "Holy shit Marc! You look... incredible!"

Just for once, you were ready for her surprise. "Well, you know," you said casually as you strode confidently across the foyer, "girl's gotta be ready to party, right?" There was an approving chorus.

To be fair though, being ready for this party - or at least the drinks Emily had arranged - had not entirely been your idea. You'd returned from your chat with Ivy to find a bag in the office containing your makeup case and a change of clothes.

After a brief internal struggle, you'd decided that with no clear alternative to going along with the transition announcement, you might as well don what happened to be one of your favourite outfits: a little black cocktail dress, black tights with golden sparkles, and strappy high-heeled sandals, each of which showed off the slim, well-toned legs that both Ivy and your own eyes considered to be your most attractive feature. You'd also done full makeup, with a particularly bold choice of smoky eyeshadow that you'd assiduously copied from an image of some actress/singer or other. Maybe Hailee Steinfeld? Someone like that anyway.

It was only as you left the office with the group of women that it occurred to you what you were doing. This was your first time out in public in fully feminine garb! To cover your nervousness, you thanked Emily for the invitation and tried really hard to focus on her rather than the passersby.

"Oh, you're welcome sweetie," responded the receptionist, "but it was actually Ivy's idea. I was hoping she could join us, but she's got something else on tonight." She gave you a piercing look. "You two seem to have been as thick as thieves lately, always sneaking out together. Are you, you know...?"

You shook your head. "Oh no, nothing like that. Once, maybe..." Your heart sank at Emily's grin. "But you... already knew about that?"

"About you being into her? Yeah, it was pretty obvious! To me, anyway... Oh look, here we are!"

You had arrived at a tower block that housed a new hotel, with a bar at the top with views that proved to be every bit as good as advertised. As the group found a table and ordered a round of surprisingly well-priced cocktails, the revelation that your former feelings for Ivy hadn't been as well disguised as you'd hoped was quickly forgotten. You found it surprisingly easy to chat to Emily and her friends, none of whom seemed to want to grill you about your journey to femininity, but rather just accepted it and included you in their regular conversation.

There was, however, one exception. "So, Marc," said Rachel, who worked in IT and was probably the group member you knew best outside of Emily, "what are you going to call yourself? You can't keep being Marc, not with..." She waved her hand at your appearance.

"And please don't say Marcy, or Marcia!" put in Abby from Payroll.

"I don't know," you responded, "I haven't really thought about it." There was a chorus of disbelief at this, and you held up your hand. "Well, okay, I've thought about it! Obviously."

"So...? C'mon, you must have a favourite?" said Emily.

"Well," you said cautiously, "I do kind of like... Natasha?"

There was a squeal of approval at this and so Natasha you became. Or Tash, as Emily and a couple of the others immediately started abbreviating it. Just for the night, you kept telling yourself, just for the night...

Another round of drinks was ordered, and then a third and fourth, though by the time of the last it was just you and Emily left, with the others having slipped away either to home or other social commitments.

Emily clinked her wine glass against yours, went to take a sip, then stopped. "Oooh!" she exclaimed as she noticed something across the bar. "C'mon, grab your drink" she exhorted, pulling you to your feet and ignoring your question as to what it was she'd seen.

The answer appeared quickly enough. It was Greg, sitting in a booth with a good-looking young man who was nearly as tall and well-built as him. "Mind if we join you?" inquired Emily.

Greg's eyes widened measurably as he saw who was with the receptionist. "Sure!" he responded. He gave you a warm smile and patted the seat next to him, then gestured Emily to sit down next to his companion. "Rick, this is Emily and uh..."

"Natasha," you supplied with only a brief moment of hesitation.

"Natasha," repeated Greg, with an approving nod. "I work with these, ah, fine folk," he added for Rick's benefit.

"Fine folk?" repeated Emily incredulously.

Greg gave a rueful grin. "Did I say fine folk? I meant hot young women." His eyes darted sideways to catch yours briefly, then back across the table. "Better?"

"Much!" pronounced Emily, then turned to the man beside her and gave him a dazzling smile. "So, Rick, how do you know this reprobate?"

As Rick explained that the two of them had attended the same school and still played various sports together, Greg leaned in and said quietly. "I'm sorry Ma-... I mean, Natasha. You don't mind me calling you, um, hot? Only..." He seemed uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Only?" you repeated, already feeling the blood starting to rush to your cheeks.

"You look... gorgeous. Really."

Ignoring the blush, you responded with as little shake in your voice as you could muster, "Why, thank you kind sir. I... made an effort."

"Well, it certainly paid off," he responded with more of his usual assurance. "So how come we haven't seen this version of you before?"

"Oh, you know, just biding my time, waiting for the right moment..." The conversation veered off onto safer ground and the two of you chatted away for quite a while, before realising that the seats across from you were empty. "That's funny," you said, "where -"

At that moment your phone buzzed repeatedly in the small handbag that you had also somehow thought to bring along to work today. There was a series of texts from Emily. You wondered for a moment how she had your number, before realising that her job would mean she had access to it, just like everyone else at the firm.

*** Gone to get a room with Rick ***

*** Oh no wait that's just my plan we're just getting drinks ***

*** Ask him out to dinner he's TOTALLY into you!!!!! (heart) ***

*** Greg I mean not Rick don't you dare make a move on Rick he's mine ***

*** I hope ***

Your blush was back, redder than ever, but you couldn't help but smile. At that moment Emily and Rick returned from the bar, bearing a fresh round of drinks. As she handed you yours, the receptionist gave a surreptitious nod in Greg's direction. "Ask him," she mouthed.

This was clearly the moment to put a stop to all this nonsense. Yet something had changed when you decided not just to accept Emily's invitation but take this new, feminine version out into the world, hadn't it? You were no longer the disturbed young man who secretly wore lingerie under his suit, without understanding how or why. You'd chosen to look like someone completely different, someone you'd been practising with Ivy to be. So why not act differently too?

Even so, it was a surprise to hear yourself say: "So, anyone feel like dinner?" You even sounded different, your voice softer and lighter, in a way you'd also been rehearsing. Without even realising it, you'd been talking that way since... well, since choosing to dress as Natasha and be one of the girls.

"Oh, I'm sorry Tash," said Emily. "I have to go soon, and Rick was saying he has that thing on, weren't you Rick?"

"Uh yeah, the thing," echoed Rick, quite clearly taking a prearranged cue, if less than convincingly. "But, um, you guys go and eat." He looked pointedly at his friend.

"Uh, sure," said Greg, aware that something was going on, but uncertain what it might be. "That okay with you, Natasha?"

Once again, the new you was quick to respond, before the old one could voice any objection. "Sounds great!"

And so it was that half an hour later, you found yourself eating with Greg in a plain looking Italian restaurant that belied its unpromising appearance by serving outstandingly good food at an exorbitant cost. Greg insisted on paying, and later on accompanying you to the station to wait for the train that would take you home.

During dinner, the conversation had been lively, without tackling too much that was personal - although you did allude, in talking about how your day had gone, to the difficult exchanges likely to await you at home. Otherwise, it was striking just how much your chats at work had made you familiar with each other's tastes and interests, so there was no lack of subjects to cover. And surprisingly easy too to see the occasion as just two acquaintances catching up, rather than dwelling on anything else it might be. Greg certainly didn't say or do anything to suggest otherwise, and so you didn't need to worry about it either. You just concentrated on enjoying the food, the wine and his company. And not necessarily in that order.

As you waited on the platform, however, something made you bring up the one topic you'd shied away from broaching all night.

"Um, Greg? About you and Ivy?"

"Ivy?" repeated Greg. "What about her?"

"I mean, you've just broken up and all..."

Greg looked slightly taken aback. "Well, a while back, yeah. But..." He hesitated for a moment, then continued: "To be honest, it wasn't really going anywhere, hadn't been for quite a while. I think people somehow thought we were made for each other, and we maybe just... didn't want to prove them wrong. But eventually we realised that we didn't really have that much in common and just... stopped bothering."

He ran a hand over his stubbled chin. "I mean, there's no problem or anything, we're still friends." He chuckled reflectively. "Though we only ever seem to talk about football these days. Which is funny, cos I had no idea she was into it!"

You frowned. "So why have you been avoiding her so much?"

"What do you mean?" Now Greg sounded genuinely puzzled.

"At work, you always seem to wait until Ivy's not around to come and..."

The penny finally dropped. It had certainly taken you long enough, hadn't it? "Oh. You just wanted..."

"To catch you on your own, yes." His gentle smile didn't hold any trace of embarrassment. "You hadn't worked that out?" He reached down to rest a hand lightly on your shoulder. Even in your heels there was still quite a height difference. "I could see you were... working through some things. So, I didn't want to push or anything. But I also, you know, wanted to get to know you. In case..."

"In case what?" Your heart was thumping now.

"Well, in case -" He broke off and shook his head in exasperation, gesturing behind you. "Shit, there's your train."

"I can get the next one," you said quickly.

But Greg shook his head, regret written all over his face. "No, there isn't another one for an hour, and you need to go and have that talk with your folks. Well, except the evil sister anyway."

You gave a rueful smile. "Right, you're right, of course. Listen though, thank you for a lovely evening! It was..."

You couldn't find the words, but it didn't seem to matter because the smile was back on his face. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" he added softly.

You locked eyes with him for a few seconds, then reached up to give him an appreciative peck on the cheek. But as he brought his head down, you found your lips somehow sliding across his cheek and instead finding his mouth.

And then you were kissing.

You waited for him to break it off. But he didn't, and for some reason neither did you. Not for a good half a minute, until you both seemed to decide it was time to unlock your lips.

You found his eyes, your expression one of shock, his reassurance, mixed with unabashed joy. Almost in a daze, you whispered: "But I'm..."

Greg lifted his eyebrows.

"I don't exactly know what I am. Or who I am," you said, shaking your head.

"So?" was his smiling response. And then his lips were once more on yours. Only this time he had you in his arms, your slender torso pulled to his powerful frame. And this kiss was different. Not sweet and exploratory like the last one, but fierce and passionate.