"Gender Perception and Discrimination: A Study by Laura Newman
Blue is for Boys, Pink is for Girls. This age old mantra has defined gender and the roles that males and females are best qualified to perform within society. One sees a male and instantly identifies him as being a leader and doer. One sees a female and immediately perceives her to be a follower and a passive element.
From birth, males and females are pidgeon-holed into their gender roles and the self-fulfilling prophecy continues. Men become Chief Executives and Doctors whilst women serve them as secretaries and nurses as this satisfies society's expectations of them.
In this study, I intend to find out how gender colours perception and leads to discrimination - mainly against women. I could take the usual course, as a woman, and apply for male-dominated jobs and conduct a study on that basis, but I have decided on a different approach. Using myself and my twin brother, Lawrence, an engineering student at this university, as test subjects, we are going to assume each other's gender and identity and conduct a unique study to see how someone who appears to be male or female is treated by a supposedly equal opportunities employer.
The preparations are all in place. It only remains for the project to begin".
Laura stopped typing the introduction to her final year psychology dissertation and read and re-read what she had just typed. That, she thought, was as much as she was going to get done tonight as she had much to do. Laura had already packed her own stuff and a suitcase on wheels and a holdall sat near the door. She would, however, need to check in her brother and see how he was getting on and he lived on a different campus from her across town. Laura grabbed her cycle hat and high visibility jacket and headed out.
Lawrence Newman was packing his possessions into a holdall when the doorbell chimed. Guessing who the caller was, he went to greet his sister. Laura asked him how far he was from being packed and Lawrence explained that he had almost finished. Laura came inside and gave him a hand.
Watching his sister pack with a speed and certainty that he lacked unnerved him slightly. But then, Laura had often had that effect on him. Although they were twins, they were very different in character and abilities. Laura was driven and focused, whilst Lawrence was more laid back and less assured. From their early childhood, Laura had always done better than him at school and college. If Lawrence hadn't been interested in study or had been a poor student, this wouldn't have bothered him. He consistently got B's and the occasional A, but Laura was a consistent A student. Lawrence didn't know why this was, but it irked him to be the boy, and yet to appear to be the less successful sibling.
Luckily, when they attended the same university, their subjects diverged and so they were no longer in direct competition with each other, but Lawrence would bet good money that whilst he earned a good degree, his sister's would be just that little bit better, as always.
At that precise moment though, he wished that his sister was studying any subject other than psychology, for she had roped him into this madcap project of hers where she would become him..and he would become her. The possessions he was packing would be used by Laura, whilst he would be using the contents of the luggage she had just packed. He gulped as he realised that he would be wearing her clothes and even her underwear.
It was a scary thought.
As if reading his thoughts, Laura, gave him a little smile as she stuffed one of his jumpers into a holdall.
And it was not just a question of wearing her clothes. He would be assuming her name and identity. Tomorrow morning, he would be driving them out of town, still as Lawrence, to a different town where no-one knew them, to a flat paid for by the university that they would share and it would be there that they would make the switch.
This time, 24 hours from now, Lawrence would become Laura Newman and live as a young woman.
Laura announced that she had finished as she zipped up the final holdall. Lawrence suggested that, as the student bar was not far from where he lived, they should go there for a drink, for it would be more than a month before they would see the university again. Laura agreed and they walked over to the bar and purchased drinks.
"Having any jitters about all this?" Laura asked him, as she sipped her coke.
"A few" Lawrence admitted in a low voice to avoid being overheard. He need not have worried, as the student bar was busy and noisy "Being a woman and all....."
Laura reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly "Don't worry. It'll be fine. And this wouldn't have been the first time we've done this, remember?"
Lawrence's face went slightly red at this and Laura giggled "I see that you DO remember!"
Suddenly, Lawrence's mind was transported from the noisy bar back into his and Laura's childhood. Although they had emerged as different personalties, physically, they had been hard to tell apart. Without the clothes and hairstyles that defined the gender of the child and therefore made it easy to tell which twin was which, the twins had looked exactly alike as children.
When they had been aged six, at Laura's suggestion (for even at that age she was emerging as the leader of the two) they had switched clothes to confuse people for fun. Laura put on her brother's shirt and shorts and his socks and shoes and concealed her long hair under his schoolcap. Lawrence donned Laura's lilac dress, socks and mary jane shoes and styled his shoulder length hair like his sisters. It was impossible to discern that the two twins had swapped clothes.
When Laura's friends came to call, Lawrence went out with them and Laura went off to play football with Lawrence's friends. The twins successfully fooled their friends into accepting them in their altered gender roles, until Lawrence came unstuck when a fierce wind blew up the skirt of his dress to reveal that he was wearing boys' underwear. The mother of the girl at whose house he had been playing was not at all amused and marched him back to the house and told his parents.
When Laura got home from playing football, she and Lawrence got a real telling off and were sent to bed. But the game continued and, over the next couple of years, the twins exchanged clothes at school to confuse the teachers. This infuriated the teachers and Laura and Lawrence's parents.
Time and again the twins stood in front of their parents, Laura wearing a boy's school uniform and Lawrence wearing a girls' skirt and blouse, and were sent to bed early with the admonishment "How many times must I tell you? You are not to wear each other's clothes!"
As the twins grew older, though, the swapping became less frequent and then stopped altogether as both twins matured and became focused on doing well at school, rather than irritating the teachers with childish games. Once puberty set in, it would have been increasingly difficult for the twins to impersonate each other, due to the changes going on in their bodies.
Now, for the first time in many years, their game was beginning anew and in a completely different context.
Back in the present now, Lawrence and Laura smiled at each other, recalling the fun they had had so many years ago.
Laura squeezed his hand again "Thanks for doing this for me. I know it won't be easy, but your input will be invaluable. A man impersonating a woman and being treated like one will be a great asset to my dissertation!"
"How do you feel about becoming a man?" Lawrence asked her.
Laura smiled "A little nervous. I'm worried that I'll be spotted right away but I think I can pull it off. We should leave now. We have a big day ahead of us".
Lawrence had to agree. They drank up and headed back to their homes.
Early the following morning, Lawrence packed his cases into his car, drove over to his sister's house and loaded her possessions into the vehicle also. Then they headed off to what was to be their new home for the two months, a small flat in a town far, far away.
Diary Entry - Day One - By subject Lawrence Newman
"The flat that I and my co-subject will be occupying for the next eight weeks is a tiny, poky little dwelling and badly in need of a good clean judging from the layer of dust. We set to work to clean the place up and then unpacked our things. I, of course, got the luggage belonging to my sister. It was very odd to open up the luggage to find dresses and female underwear and realising that I would have to wear these things. I noted that the clothes and underwear chosen for me were more frilly and feminine than the clothes my sister normally wore, for she usually dresses in a more gender neutral style and rarely wears a skirt or dress. When I questioned my co-subject about this, she told me that I would have to dress in a more feminine style to make my presentation as her more convincing.
Once we had eaten and unpacked, my co-subject decided it was time to transform me into her. She ran me a bath and smothered my naked body with a foul-smelling cream. This served to remove all of my body hair and left me as hairless as a baby. My co-subject remarked that I had quite lovely legs that any girl would be proud to own.
I then had to suffer the discomfort and indignity of having a pair of realistic looking, but obviously false, breasts glued to my torso. My co-subject informed me that the glue could only be dissolved by a substance known only to herself and so I should expect to have a pair of breasts for the duration of the project. It was quite weird to suddenly find oneself with a pair of breasts and I noticed that they immediately pulled my upper body downwards until my co-subject fitted me with a lacy crossover bra that was a great relief to me at that time.
After making sure my bra fitted properly, my co-subject suggested that I should wear a corset. I took umbrage at this, for I knew for a fact that she did not wear a corset herself. Ever. However, my co-subject insisted that I wear one, to give me a more womanly shape and as always, she wore my resistance down and so I ended up letting her lace me into a white corset with frilly edgings. I gasped with pain and discomfort as my waist was gradually reduced to the same proportions as her own waist. It was very strange to see myself in the mirror with a pair of breasts and a small waist, the profile of a woman.
I was given a pair of frilly white knickers and something my co-subject described as a cache sex and which was designed to hide any bulges down below. Once I had these items on, I was a flat below as I was busty above.
I was given a pair of black stockings to wear and slid these over my hairless slender legs. I was handed a flower patterned blouse and it took me some time to put on with the fiddly pearl buttons. A denim mini-skirt followed and I stepped into this. It showed off about 90% of my admittedly rather good looking legs. My co-subject then handed me a pair of six-inch black high heels. I objected to them, as it was not yet necessary for me to wear shoes of such height but my co-subject again told me that I needed to do so for the good of the project. I needed to learn to walk in them. Reluctantly, I slipped them on and almost toppled over. My co-subject then taught me how to walk in what I thought to be a device of torture rather than a fashion accessory. I wobbled around in them, until I got used to walking around in them. I was still a little wobbly but had gained in confidence.
My co-subject produced some jewellery, a pair of pretty clip in earrings that were attached to my ears, a matching necklace was placed around my neck and I wore bangles on my wrists that clanked whenever I moved my hands. My co-subject then took a pair of tweezers from her bag and plucked my bushy eyebrows. It hurt like hell! When she had finished with my brows, they had assumed a thin, feminine arch. A wig in her style and both our colours (auburn) was fitted to my head and I was told that it would do until my own hair grew long enough to be convincing.
No make up was applied to me. That particular treat would come when I had to attend job interviews. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that I made a convincing looking girl. My co-subject had been right to make me wear a pair of breasts and a corset for I had a womanly figure. My face was not beautiful, but it was pretty and girlish. Even I became convinced that my new appearance would more than pass.
My co-subject's own preparations to assume my identity took far less time than mine. My co-subject bound her breasts and fitted a false penis to her lower region to give her the bulge down below that I now lacked. She donned a pair of men's underpants, socks, shirt, trousers, jumper and flat shoes. She then got me to clip her long hair short, which I did. The job was far from expert, as I was no hairdresser, but my co-subject seemed happy enough with her new hairstyle.
We stood together in front of the mirror and concluded that she now looked like a very boyish young man, whilst I looked like a pretty, slender girl. The swap had gone off perfectly.
Diary Entry - Day Two - By Subject Laura Newman
My co-subject and I rose early and got ready. I wore a man's shirt, trousers and shoes whilst my subject was dressed in the outfit he wore the previous evening, a pretty blouse and denim mini skirt with high heels. He makes a rather pretty girl. He is coping quite well with the situation, although he does moan sometimes about how uncomfortable his clothes and shoes are to wear. He'll get used to it. He IS still very wobbly in those heels, and we'll have to work on that, but I am pleased with his appearance.
My own appearance is pleasing to me as well and I'm adapting to my new clothes. After a girlhood in skirts and heels, male clothing and flat shoes are very liberating. My co-subject agrees with me that I look like a real chap. I feel like one too. Very masculine and powerful.
We had breakfast, which I made my co-subject do to break him into his new role as the girl of the house and therefore responsible for the cleaning of our flat, cooking our meals, shopping for groceries, and doing our laundry.
Then we got to work, searching local newspapers and the internet (via my laptop) for jobs to apply for. We struck gold by mid morning when my co-subject found two jobs in a local stockbroking firm, Abbotts. The jobs on offer were that of a trainee stockbroker and a junior secretary. These jobs were perfect for the purposes of the study, as the former job was a traditionally male job and the latter a traditionally female one.
We sent in our Curriculum Vitae's (CV's) and a covering letter. We each applied for both positions. As all we could do was wait for a response, I taught my co-subject how to walk and talk more like a female and introduced him to the mysteries of make up. I have to admit that my co-subject is a quick study and picked up his new skills very well indeed. After only a few hours of me showing him how to apply his make up, he was able to put it on with only a little supervision from myself.
Diary Entry - Day Four - by subject Lawrence Newman
The last few days have been very educational and also very confusing for me. I am finding that wearing feminine clothes and being made to do feminine things, like putting on make up, is having an effect on my perspective. Wearing skirts, bras, corsets, tights, high heels and other frilly, lacy things is making me more feminine. I am becoming more concerned about my appearance, more sensitive and more emotional.
But my focus today had been on my job interview. As related in my previous entries, my co-subject and I had applied for positions at a local stockbroking firm called Abbotts. Yesterday, we each received a telephone call inviting us to an interview. However, although we had applied for both positions, I was only offered an interview for the secretarial position whilst my co-subject was called to attend an interview for the more senior and better paid trainee stockbroker role.
My co-subject was pleased by this outcome, for it demonstrated her theory. Our CV's showed that we had roughly the same grades. We were both well qualified for the trainee position. However, I had not been considered for the role and my co-subject had not been considered for the secretarial vacancy. This was a clear example of gender discrimination at work.
In the meantime, I had had to prepare for my interview. I wore a silk blouse, knee-length grey skirt, with a matching jacket and a pair of black high heels. I wore a necklace and earrings and my make up was flawless, as it had to be. I of course wore my wig. For the first time in my life, I had to use a handbag. It felt very weird to have to carry this bag around with me everywhere.
Nervously, I set out for my interview, feeling foolish and very self-conscious. I was aware of the fragrance of my own perfume, the click of my heels against the pavement, the silky feel of my blouse and underwear against my skin, the hotness of my wig and my handbag bashing gently against my hip as I walked. I was terrified that I would be uncovered as the fraud I was at once, but no-one gave me a second glance. Actually, someone did, a boy my own age, who was checking me out but doing nothing more, much to my relief.
The offices of Abbotts were a ten minute walk but that walk seemed to last forever. I was assaulted by alien experiences brought on by my scent and the clothes and jewellery I wore and worried that someone would see through me. I was also nervous about the interview.
However, I eventually arrived and reported into reception. The girl receptionist glanced at me briefly, asked me to sign in as a visitor (it felt very strange to sign my name as Laura Newman) and made a quick call to let my interviewer know that I had arrived. I was asked to take a seat. I walked over and smoothed my skirt down before I sat, as I had observed women doing before me. After a wait of five minutes, an older woman, dressed in a trouser suit, came to collect me, introducing herself as Miss Farley, Head of Administrative Resources. We rode a lift to the twelfth floor, exchanging trite pleasantries about the weather and my journey, before it depositied us into an open plan office where lots of girls were working, furiously typing away.
Miss Farley explained that this was the secretarial pool, where I would start out if I was successful in my interview. Most girls started here until they were resourced to be the secretary of a broker, a manager or even a director.
I was led to Miss Farley's office. To my surprise, there was a man seated behimd her desk. He was in his late thirties, I guessed and his well cut suit suggested he was fairly senior in the company. Miss Farley introduced me to him as Miss Newman and his name was Brian Latimer and he was one of the account managers. He was, Miss Farley explained, not formally involved in the interview, but had expressed an interest to sit in.
He was there to drool over the girl applicants, I immediately guessed.
I took a seat when invited and the interview commenced. The questions fired at me were mainly about my secretarial experience (I actually had none, which they would have known already had they read my CV) and my personal circumstances. I confirmed that I had moved into the area recently and was sharing a flat with my twin brother, who, incidentally, was being interviewed for a trainee broker spot at Abbotts later today.
All the while, as I tried to not only deal with the questions, but talk in a feminine voice, I noticed Brian's eyes fixed on my breasts, which were prominent underneath my silk blouse, and on my long slender legs. I longed to tell him to stop looking at me in that way, but of course could not.
Miss Farly finished her battery of questions and asked if I had any. I asked if my lack of actual secretarial experience would be a problem. Miss Farley thought not. The position was an entry level position and so I would be learning on the job. I was tempted to ask why I had not been selected for interview for the trainee broker position, but had the sense to hold my tongue.
Finally, the interview was over and we exchanged handshakes. I was sure that Brian Latimer was checking out my skirted bottom as I left the room. I was aware that I had just been treated exactly like a piece of meat by a typical corporate lech. It was a horrid feeling to be objectified and made to feel self-conscious and vulnerable.
My co-subject arrived home from her interview two hours after me. She was pleased because her interview had gone well. She had been interviewed by a panel of three senior managers, who had been friendly. She had then been shown around the office and introduced to some of the brokers she would be working with if she got the job before being introduced to some of the directors. Her interview and the way she was treated when perceived to be a man contrasted sharply with my experience when I was perceived to be a woman.
My co-subject was so enthused that she did not ask me how my interview had gone.
We both got calls from Abbotts, letting us know that we had both been successful and that we would be starting tomorrow. This, my co-subject explained, was a cause for celebration and she suggested that we should eat out tonight.
This meant, of course, that I would have to dress up. I shaved my legs and armpits and put on a red dress with matching heels and made myself up. My co-subject, dressed in a tux, took my arm and escorted me to a restaurant. My legs were bare and I could feel the breeze under the skirt of my dress. I carried a clutch bag, envying my partner, who walked easily in a suit and flat shoes.
We went to "Maisies", not the classiest eating house in town, but a few notches up from our usual restaurant back home, and had an enjoyable time. But I was apprehensive, as tomorrow I would be a working girl, working alongside female employees who might spot that I was not a genuine lady, and males like Brian Latimer.
Diary Entry - Day Seven - Entry by Subject Lawrence Newman
I've been working as a junior secretary for Abbotts for the last three days and what an eye opener it has been as a male who is assumed by all to be a pretty young female and treated as such.
Dolled up in my silk blouse, seamed stockings, pencil skirt and high heels, and perfumed and fully made up, I report to the twelfth floor and spend the day typing general correspondence. My work is checked by one of the more senior girls and I'm made to do it again if it is not considered to be good enough. My typing speed and accuracy is increasing rapidly.
I get an hour for lunch and spend it in the staff canteen. When I started, I was assigned a chaperone to help me orientate myself. This was a girl called Cynthia, only a year or so older than myself, who had been with the firm for six months. Cynthia seemed to like me as she continues to lunch with me and passes me her magazines for me to read. I long to read an engineering manual or a serious book, but instead I have to read articles on make up, losing weight and celebrity gossip. However, I have to have some knowledge of these things to pull off my role as Laura.
The ambition of every girl on the twelfth floor is to become the secretary of one of the brokers or a manager or director, for the rise in pay and status is significant. They seek to attract the attention of these senior people, who are overwhelmingly male, and these girls openly flout the dress code to dress more sexily. The offices lechs, of course, including Brian Latimer, appeared frequently on the floor on the flimiest pretext to ogle us girls.
Some of the girls welcomed this, seeing it as their ticket out of the twelfth floor, but I positively bristled with indignation at being ogled. But, it seemed, the greater my displeasure, the more attention the lechs gave me. They came and sat on my desk, touched me on the arm uninvited and tried to chat me up. I was mortified and secretly terrified by all of the attention.
My co-subject came to visit me. Unlike me, she was having an interesting time being trained for her job and enjoying long lunch hours. She seemed happy and oblivious to my low spirits. Her visit was brief, as she was going out to lunch with some of the directors. I watched her with envy.
Diary Entry - Day Eleven - by Subject Laura Newman
What a fantastic time I am having! Seen by all around me as a feisty young male, I am learning how to be a broker and all of the brokers and most senior people have a high opinion of me. I lunch with them every day!
This all proves that perceptions of one's gender dictates how one is treated throughout life.
Look at my poor co-subject. As a boy he would probably be where I am now, but by presenting himself as a girl, he is given a girl's job to do and is even gawped at by other men!
I am finding that in my new male role, I have become completely dominant over my co-subject. I make him do all the chores in the flat to reinforce his new feminine role.
I'm loving this study!
Diary Entry - Day Fourteen - by Subject Lawrence Newman
I am trembling as I write this entry, as what I have feared most has come to pass!
I was touching up my make-up, something I find myself doing quite frequently, and an activity at which I am becoming more skilful, when the odious Brian Latimer approached me and asked me to fetch a client's file for him.
The client files were stored in a room in the back of Floor Twelve, so I had to leave my desk and mince along in my high heels across the floor. I knew that Latimer was watching my skirted behind wiggle as I moved. I went into the room where the files were stored and bent over to find the file that Latimer had asked for. After a minute, my french-manicured hand was clasped around the spine of the file.
But then I became aware that two hands were gripping my bottom. I gasped with surprise and shock.
It was Latimer who was fondling my bottom. He spun me around and began to grope and kiss me. I was too shocked to resist at first. This situation was completely outside my experience. In between ravishing me, Latimer was telling me how hot and sexy I was and that if I was nice to him, he could do a lot for me.
I was frightened and confused. Then his hands began to move down towards my crotch, and I knew that I had to act before he found out what I really was. So I did what any girl would do in that situation and kneed him between the legs. Latimer cried out, fell to the floor and was doubled up in agony. It was quite satisfying to see him in pain. I stepped over him and returned to my desk.
The other girls looked at me, trying to work out from my face what had happened and were disappointed to read nothing.
A few minutes later, Latimer emerged from the file room and left the floor. Outwardly, I controlled myself to be calm and cool, but inside I was a trembling, quivering mess. Some of the other girls asked me what had happened, to which I gave an answer of "nothing".
The girls looked at me, and then at each other, and shrugged.
Later, Brenda, the unofficial leader of the secretaries took me aside.
"Look Laura" she said "I'm going to give you some friendly advice as you aren't fitting in here. If you want to get on in this company you need to attract the men, not knee them in the balls! We know what happened in that room dearie, no matter how hard you tried not to show it. Let the men have their way with you and you'll have a good job as their secretary. And for goodness sake wear a shorter skirt!" was her parting comment.
My mind was in turmoil as I went back to my desk. Not only were the men allowed to have their way with us, but their activities were sanctioned by the women they were molesting. I was being treated like an outcast by the other girls because I wasn't conforming.
When I got home, I cried a little and then got on with the housework. A woman's work is never done.
Diary Entry - Day Eighteen - by Subject Laura Newman
It was my birthday today.
After work, I went out with the boys. They now accept me as one of them and are always clapping me around the shoulder and cracking jokes with me. This masculine culture is certainly different from my past experience.
What I didn't count on was that the boys had lined up a treat for me.
As we dined on steak, drank beers and watched a football match on the big screen there, a girl police officer approached me and asked if I was Lawrence Newman, which I confirmed.
Had I seen the boys' faces I would have twigged what was going on, but my eyes were on the girl cop and my mind was wondering what I had done to warrant the attentions of the police.
The girl told me that she had been told that I had been a very naughty boy and needed to be punished! It was then I worked out that she was no cop, but before I could say anything she began removing her clothes and went into striptease mode.
This was absolutely the last thing I wanted, seeing another girl strip for me, but if I didn't behave correctly, I would compromise my position and reveal who and what I really was. The boys were encouraging me to touch and kiss the by now scantily clad girl, who parked herself on my lap and began to kiss me.
To preserve my role as one of the boys, I kissed her back and ran my hands over her body. The feel of her wet lips and warm, soft body was not displeasing and so it was easy for me to play the guy's role.
Thankfully, the routine ended, with the guys none the wiser. They clapped me on the back manfully and bought me lots of beer. I fell into bed, quite drunk.
Diary Entry - Day Eighteen - by Subject Lawrence Newman
Following Brenda's advice, I now wore a mini-skirt to show off my rather good legs. The girls looked at me approvingly when I appeared in the office wearing it.
It was my birthday and the girls insisted on taking me out clubbing. I had to go home and change into a skimpy dress that showed off my legs, my shoulders and my cleavage, and stilettos that I struggled to walk in despite the fact that I had worn heels for over two weeks. I carried a clutch purse that was the same colour as my dress.
I met the girls, who were dressed pretty much as I was, in a restaurant, where we had a meal.
Much to my surprise, one of the waiters, a tall, black, muscular man, asked me if I was Laura Newman. I confirmed that I was. To my horror, the "waiter" slowly began removing his clothes, with the girls egging him on. I was trapped. There was no way I could refuse to go along with all this. As far as the others were concerned, I was one of the girls, and so they had treated me to every girl's fantasy, a male stripper.
My red face was thankfully hidden by a thick layer of cosmetics and so the girls did not see my embaressment. The stripper was by now wearing only his thong and insisted on my sitting on his lap. I awkwardly perched on the man's lap and, at the urging of the girls, ran my manicured hands over his large arm and chest muscles, marvelling at their size. The stripper finally removed his thong and invited me to stroke his thingy. I looked at the thingy, cringing with shame, but knew I had to play along and so, shuddering inwardly, ran my hands over the male organ, to the delight of the girls.
The ordeal suddenly ended when the stripper picked me up in his arms and gave me a long deep kiss before depositing me back on the ground. I was taken aback by the kiss and realised with shock that I had actually enjoyed being in a man's arms and being kissed! Was I gay? I was sure that I was not, but my feminine role was exposing me to new experiences, both humiliating and delightful.
The girls kissed me and made much of me and I realised that whatever doubts they had had about me before were now extinguished. I really was one of the girls now!
We went on to Solitaires, one of the city's many nightclubs. Ladies were admitted free of charge, whilst the men had to queue and pay, one of the perks of being a "lady" and the reason why the club had been chosen for our night out.
I spent the evening with the girls, drinking and chatting, and learning a lot about each of the girls. Luckily, the girls steadily got drunker and drunker, and took less notice of me, so I was able to relax a little. I was asked to dance by a number of boys and took to the dance floor. The stilettos were agony to dance in but the attention from the boys was very flattering. It made a nice change to be the prey rather than the hunter. Maybe being a girl was not so bad after all.
The girls at last became too drunk to continue and we got taxis home. I fell into bed.
Diary Entry - Day Twenty - by Subject Laura Newman
My training is continuing and I am gaining more confidence and experience in my roles, both as a male and as a stockbroker.
I am now fully accepted as one of the boys. But this has brought its own problems.
A girl secretary, Cynthia, has the hots for me!
Formerly from that pink ghetto, the twelfth floor, Cynthia was brought to our floor to provide additional secretarial support.
She hovers around me as often as possible and tries to talk to me. As a girl, I can read other girls. She is interested in me. Seriously interested. This is a real worry. If I can read her, maybe she will read me and work out that I am as female as she is.
Diary Entry - Day Twenty Two - by Subject Lawrence Newman
I have escaped from the twelfth floor temporarily. My rescuer is none other than my persecutor, Brian Latimer. Due to his heavy workload, he has requested an additional secretary, and asked for me.
I reported to his existing secretary, a much older woman called Caroline. She was older than her boss so I could see that I was going to be the object of Latimer's attention. Caroline was staid and very bossy and made me do most of the work whilst she supervised me. She sniffed in disapproval at my tiny skirt and my heavy make up. She thinks I'm a trollop, I realised. I suddenly yearned to be back with the other girls.
Worst of all, Caroline announced that she had to leave work early to visit her husband, who was in hospital, which meant I would be alone with Brian Latimer. Whilst Caroline was around, Latimer was courteous and polite to both of us. I sensed that that was about to change.
How right I was! Shortly after Caroline had gathered her things and left for the day, Brian called me into his office for some dictation, which I took down as he massaged my shoulders and stroked my hair (by now this was my real hair, which had grown out, rather than the wig I had had to wear intially). Once the dictation was over, he began kissing me. As I was seated, there would be no repeat of my performance at our last encounter. I guessed he had planned all this.
He whispered in my ear how sexy I was and that he would dump Caroline as his secretary in a heartbeat and let me replace her if only I would soften and let him have his way. I had no wish to be his secretary or for Caroline to lose her job and I told him so.
His face grew dark and he threatened to have me sacked if I did not co-operate. He kissed and fondled me and I did not resist. Like any junior employee, the threat of losing my job made me submissive and putty in his hands.
Thankfully, he was content with kissing me and eventually let me go. I was shaking with fright and humiliation. I was learning what it was like to be a sex object.
Diary Entry - Day Twenty Eight - by Subject Laura Newman
My position has been compromised and I'm being blackmailed by that little bitch Cynthia!
That wretched girl has become my nemesis. As I feared, she has "read" me. She ambushed me as I was leaving the office and told me that she had worked out that Lawrence Newman, hotshot trainee broker and one of the boys, was actually a girl. It was obvious from my small hands and body language that I was female.
I tried to laugh it off and tell her to stop being ridiculous but she threatened to march into my boss's office and tell him, which would lead to the very least in my having to undergo a medical examination. I panicked and begged her not to. I had to tell her that this was a project for my dissertation (but without revealing that my brother was masquerading as me). Cynthia accepted this but said that her silence had a price.
Half of my salary, to be exact. I would have to hand over half my wages to her. I had no choice but to agree in order to salvage the project. As a result, although my salary is nominally higher than any secretary, in reality I now take home less. My co-subject now brings home more than me, hardly the outcome I had expected.
Diary Entry - Day Thirty One - by Subject Lawrence Newman
My life as a secretary has become a nightmare as a result of Brian Latimer's constant attentions. The health of Caroline's husband has worsened, causing Caroline to ask for an indefinite leave of absence, a request that Brian willingly granted.
I was now his secretary, and required to dress more sexily. Brian has bought me expensive lingerie and jewellery, which I am required to wear. He likes his women fully made up and so has provided me with the most costly cosmetics to adorn my features.
He is always kissing and fondling me and whispering in my ear how gorgeous and sexy I am. I am scared of him. What would happen if he found out who I really was?
Today, I had to work late, at Brian's request, to finish off some urgent correspondence. The rest of the floor was by now deserted as the rest of the staff gradually filtered out. Brian called me into the office and told me to strip down to my underwear.
I tried to refuse, but he played his trump card and threatened to fire me. Reluctantly, I began to unbutton my blouse. Within a few minutes I stood shivering, nervous and feeling extremely vulnerable clad only in a bra, knickers, stockings and high heels.
I could feel Brian's eyes on my body, appreciating the swell of my breasts, the curves of my hips and my long, slender legs. He took me in his arms and kissed me all over. I felt quite disgusted by him, but could not resist. He let me go and enjoyed seeing me run around after him in just my underwear. I felt soiled and dirty as I put my outer clothes back on when I was finally allowed to go home. I was just eye candy, not a real person in my own right.
I cried as I lay alone in bed.
Diary Entry - Day Thirty Seven - by Subject Laura Newman
I now have a "girlfriend". Cynthia!
She has insisted upon this arrangement, in order to enhance her own standing in the company. To be dating an up and coming broker will improve her own prospects. She is aiming at becoming my boss's secretary and from that position would have a lot of indirect power and influence.
In the meantime, I have to go through the motions of "dating" her. I have to walk her home, take her out for (and pay for!) meals and entertainment. Kiss her in public and call her darling (when all I want to do is strangle the devious little minx!).
All this, in addition to the bribe, is costing me a fortune! The only upside is that, now I have a "girlfriend", my status amongst the boys has improved. With me dating an admittedly pretty girl like Cynthia, there can be no doubts about my masculinity.
Diary Entry - Day Forty Three - by Subject Lawrence Newman
Brian's attentions are becoming more frequent and more irksome. I now spend more time in his arms - and in just my underwear - than ever. To be kissed by another man is utterly revolting and I almost retch when he as much as touches me.
I have been degraded to being a sex slave to a misogynist lech. I don't know if I can take much more of this.
Diary Entry - Day Fifty - by Subject Laura Newman
I have decided to bring the project to an end, as I have learned that my co-subject's position has become, if anything, more intolerable than my own.
I am being blackmailed. My poor co-subject has been reduced to a sex object.
We have both agreed to leave our jobs.
My method of leaving was dramatic. My first action was to dump Cynthia. She, of course, threatened to expose me and I told her to go ahead. She was taken aback by this. She clearly wanted our "arrangement" to continue for as long as possible and was disappointed that I wanted to bring it to an end.
She hesitated, then begged me to reconsider. I told her to get stuffed. She was getting nothing more from me. This, as I anticipated, made her angry and she stormed off in the direction of my boss's office.
A short time later, I was called in by my boss and told that certain allegations had been made about me. I would have to attend a medical examination to prove my "maleness". I told him it was unneccessary and undid my shirt to reveal my breasts, which I had released from bondage.
Stunned, my boss took some moments to find his voice. When he eventually spoke, he said that I was fired with immediate effect and that I would be sued for misrepresentation
Diary Entry - Day Fifty - by Subject Lawrence Newman
After suffering a crying fit and disclosing to my co-subject full details of the living hell that was my life under Brian Latimer, we agreed that the project should end.
I went into work fully dressed, but once in the ladies powder room, stripped to my underwear and nonchalantly went about my secretarial duties, raising quite a few eyebrows. Caroline, whose husband's health had improved enough for her to return to work, was scandalised and told me to put some clothes on.
Brian was mortified too and asked what the hell I thought I was doing. I told him outright that I was a boy. I dropped my knickers to reveal my thingy. The look on Brian's face was priceless and the women present burst out laughing. Brian, the skirt chaser, was chasing a boy! Brian, thoroughly humiliated, threatened dire retribution. He'd sue me.
Diary Entry - Day Fifty - by Subject Laura Newman
We were marched into the office of the CEO, Marcus Jenner, who was told that he had two employees that had obtained employment by deception.
We were fired immediately, but that went without saying. We had deceived our employer, after all.
As to being sued, luckily that would not happen. Lawrence countered that if we were sued, he would present his own lawsuit of sexual harressment against Brian Latimer and Abbotts.
This would cause Abbotts (and Brian Latimer) much embaressment and unwelcome media attention, so it was agreed that neither side would be suing the other. My dissertation would not mention the firm involved in the study, I promised. We would leave quietly. We were escorted from the building.
We heard later on that Brian Latimer had been dismissed for misconduct towards female employees and that the company's equal opportunities policy was more rigourously enforced. There were more women brokers and more male secretaries, so this study had a positive outcome.
My dissertation was written and, as my brother predicted, whilst he got a good engineering degree, I got first class honours. Women totally rock!