Disclaimer, please read!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the MCs secretly wears women's underwear, but publicly lives as a male!
If you are not into forced/willing feminization, it is not a good story for you.
The story includes sub/dom behaviors and sexual power-play in the workplace environment - between two BI-CURIOUS males.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"These questionnaires have to be completed by Monday!"
The annoying voice in my ear was like a mosquito's buzz.
I glowered at the small, pale face in front of me, its lips pursed, its squinted eyes hidden behind horn-rimmed glasses.
"And how the fuck am I supposed to deal with this?! Do you even know what we do here, Miller? Today we have to finish the reports for the Design Department. They won't be able to start the TechAd project without them! And it's Friday already."
Nicholas Miller - the obnoxious worker from the HR department crossed his arms on his slender chest. He looked like a typical office worker, lurking in the corridors of big corporations in a brown sweater and corduroy pants. And his stupid slicked-back hair!
His squeezed lips were almost white now. "You had more than a month to finish these questionnaires. I was patient, but I also have to explain the delay to Director Jones!"
I crossed my arms on my chest, mimicking his gesture.
"You never gave me a specific due date, Miller. I can't give this busy work to my team. They have enough on their plates now. Give us another week, and..."
"No! I'm already far behind schedule!" he barked like a little, infuriating chihuahua.
"Not. My. Problem." I repeated with an ice-cold voice.
Suddenly, something snapped in him. Miller walked around my desk and pressed the pile of printed questionnaires to my chest.
With quite a force.
"Do! The! Fucking! Questionnaires!" His face was pale and tense. Desperate. Stupidly desperate...
I felt the slow, cold but inevitable wave of anger. What an insolent brat.
How old could he be? Twenty-two? Twenty-four? Fresh from college? I was thirty and higher in the office hierarchy. Any yet he... dared to push my chest?
I clenched my jaw and furrowed my eyebrows. And then I let the files fall on the floor. He observed this with a bated breath.
I eyed him for a moment. Between two men, there is always this one, weird game, that takes place on a subconscious level. We never do that with women. It's only a male thing - always assessing the enemy's 'combat potential'. Because among males there is always the subtle threat of potential physical violence. In the civilized world it's rather vague and subliminal, but we somehow "know" who has the upper hand in physical dominance.
The annoying clerk just made his mistake number one, not assessing me in a proper way.
I didn't let my gaze drop from his widened hazel-gray eyes.
"Pick up the trash, Miller," I said in a low, growling voice.
Then this weird thing happened.
I could see something on his face. Subtle change. He froze a bit. Blinked, the tempest of previous emotion had passed without a trace.
Something flashed in my mind. An idea...
"On your knees, Miller. Pick up the trash!"
He was tense like a string. I leaned a bit forward, narrowing my eyes.
"On. Your. Knees!"
He swallowed hard, and shocked me... by complying! The fucking HR rat slowly dropped to his knees.
I bore my eyes into his small, pale face, looking at him quite intensely. His eyes were now a bit widened.
"Pick. That. Shit. Up."
He sighed softly, lowered his head and finally started picking up the files scattered around my chair. I watched him with a peculiar pleasure that I had never felt before. Sweet triumph flooded my body. Yep.
He picked up every sheet of paper, piling them up again in perfect order. One strand of his auburn brown hair fell at his forehead, no longer combed back neatly.
I felt a weird temptation to touch this strand and bring it back to the original position. I was considering that actually, but...
Another weird thing happened.
His brown buttoned down sweater caught on the drawer key, and as he moved, it was pulled up a bit, showing...
I held my breath.
The man had a pink thong on his fucking ass! I bulged my eyes in amazement.
"Man! Are you wearing women's underwear?!"
Only then Miller noticed how high the drawer key pulled his sweater and shirt underneath it.
He nervously jumped forward, trying to run from my reach, but in the process he made the whole desk move across the floor a bit... But the key did not break.
"Wait, stop going crazy! You're gonna flip the desk!"
I bent and, not without trouble, unhooked his clothes from the lowest drawer.
He jumped again, clumsily tumbling on the floor.
I stood up. It was a weirdly pleasant feeling to have him still on the carpet, as I was towering over him with my hand on my hips.
"Are you some 'sissy boy'?" I once heard the term, even checked it in Urban Dictionary. I was amazed that he matched the description.
"Fuck off!" he whined in a very high-pitched tone of voice.
"Watch your tongue there, Miller..."
"If you ever tell anyone..." his 'threatening voice' was pathetic.
"Hey. Stop it. Stop the useless panicking." I narrowed my eyes. "The thong is actually quite pretty. It looks like pink satin or see-through fabric. Is it something like that?"
He didn't respond, but swallowed with a painful grimace only looking at me with his slightly skewed glasses.
"So... about the questionnaires." I pouted my lips. "I may be persuaded to complete them by Monday. But I would need some incentive."
He was still silent - still sitting on the floor, looking up at me.
"Show me the thong, Nicholas. Whole. Front and back. On you. And I will do the fucking questionnaires myself, I'll come to the fucking office this weekend, and I will do this shit for you."
He looked abashed, even shocked.
I tilted my head.