Lake Otherlife, Part 9: Working Life (Patreon)

We draw ever closer to the conclusion of Lake Otherlife! I think this might be two more chapters, followed by a brief epilogue. We'll see. Hope you enjoy.

A visit to a mysterious outback lake results in a big change for George and Holly, who are already undergoing relationship troubles of their own. Now, with their genders and lives utterly altered, will their romance last?

• First Part
• Previous Part

Lake Otherlife, Part 9: Working Life

Holly:

“But honey, I can’t do it! I’m not ready!”

I gave my best sympathetic look to my fiancée. She was in her black bra and panties, and they accentuated her form wonderfully.

“You’ll be fine, my love. You’ve been studying up, preparing for this. Just like I have.”

“But I’m going to make mistakes!”

“I am too, but we have to try. Remember, it’s only for a year.”

She sighed heavily, and her marvellous breasts rose and fell with her breath. I tried to ignore my stiffening member. I couldn’t help it; my boyfriend had turned into a total smokeshow.

“I’m going to look ridícula. A little sexy secretary while all the men do the real work.”

“Hey now, don’t put down secretaries. They serve a vital role. Don’t forget, I was a receptionist for a while, and that’s not too dissimilar.”

She pouted her full lips, and crossed her arms.

“Si, si, you’re not wrong. But - it’s just so ridiculous! I’m going to look like a display item. I need to find something to hide these big tetas.”

She gestured to her boobs once more, and I couldn’t help but cough. It was a strange thing going from a straight woman to a straight man. I was certainly not used to hiding the log between my legs when it went hard. Mind you, its size was a big part of the problem.

“Honey, I don’t think anything in the world is going to be able to hide those big boobies of yours. A poncho wouldn’t even do the trick.”

“You’re not helping,” she said.

I shrugged. “I believe in you. Remember, you took us up to Darwin in the first place to give us a breath of fresh air. We both agreed we would do our best with our new lives for the next year, see how it helps our love life. Remember?”

“Si, yo recorda.” That damned sexy Spanish. “Fine, I’ll try. But if I come home crying again you better not say a word. It’s these ridiculous female hormones. I’m probably nearly on my period.”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re okay with crying. It felt good last time, didn’t it?”

“Si, though it feels less good being reminded every day.”

“Fair enough, fair enough.”

She batted her eyelids at me suggestively. “Go on then, get out of here. I need to get my work outfit on.”

“You’re not going to let me stay in the room?”

She rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her wide hips. “Please, your big pene is practically shooting out of your pants. I’d rather not be reminded that my girlfriend wants to fuck me with it. Again.”

I laughed. “Please, you were begging for it that night. And don’t think I haven’t seen you checking out my biceps and shoulders. I was a woman, remember? I know where girls look from first-hand experience.”

“Cállate!” she said, but it was in good humour. “It’s embarrassing. One time we did it. It was . . . well, it was different. Maybe even worth it. But we were tipsy. I was practically falling over and so were you.”

“Still, you made a nice sight. And shouldn’t we try to at least keep the romance going by letting each other enjoy the sight of each other, like old times?”

It was a silly argument, I knew, which was why I was surprised when she laughed a little, and relented.

“Fine, be a pervert. I wish I was in your position. I would have killed for a night with a body like this.”

I laughed. “I would have killed for a body like that. I’m still jealous of your boob size.”

“Don’t be, they’re heavy. And sensitive.”

“I remember that.”

“Ha ha.”

She began readying herself in her work clothes, and I decided I would do the same. Give each other a bit of a show. She certainly seemed to appreciate it. Try as she might, my former male partner was now hopelessly female when it came to her attractions to men. I decided to have a little fun with it, flexing a little exaggeratedly as I put my suit pants on, and cracking my neck and posing as I put my smart button shirt on. For just a moment, she bit her lip, and I decided not to tell her that even through her bra, I could see her large brown nipples denting the fabric.

“Very masculine, very impressive,” she said sarcastically, though it didn’t stop her looking. “But I can do it a bit better, querido.”

What followed was perhaps the sexiest damned thing I had ever seen in my short male existence. Hell, it was probably the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my female existence too. Gabriella dressed in an exaggerated manner, extending her shapely legs through the nylon stockings and shimmering her tight pencil skirt up to her hips. She wiggled her bottom suggestively as she fitted it. Next came the top; she swung her body to put her arms through it, and it caused her heavy bosom to wobble, trembling with each movement, nearly coming out of her cips. She fitted the shirt, doing one button after another, so that her cleavage was compressed, rising higher and higher until it reached her clavicle. When she was done, she gingerly adjusted her chest before putting on her grey heels, the ones I’d been helping her practice in.

“Holy shit, that was better. I’ll need a cold shower.”

“And that is why men are always late,” she quipped. “Now let’s hurry to work. I don’t want to be late.”

“Easy for you to say,” I said, trying to will my iron-hard boner to calm down.

George:

It had felt good to reduce Harry to putty. If I was going to be stuck like this for a year, I suppose I could have some fun with it. After all, I liked big boobs as a man, so it was only fair to derive some enjoyment out of them now that they were hanging heavily off of my little olive-skinned frame. It had actually been quite fun to tease Harry with my body, and it hopefully distracted him from noticing just how turned on this ridiculous Spanish form was by his muscles. Seriously, I was flashing the headlights!

I just had to be careful not to have sex again. It was one thing to masturbate; the libido of my new body was big enough that I wasn’t just finding the urge to pleasure myself once a day, I needed to. It felt like I would explode if I didn’t stroke my throbbing clit and make myself shudder in female orgasm. It was loco, to say the least. Truth be told, I was actually a little nervous about lasting the whole year. I knew it would be anathema to have sex again, to be penetrated. Once was an experiment, but twice or more was a pattern, an emasculating one. Harry had encouraged me to accept a feminine experience, and parts of it I was learning not to hate, maybe even enjoy, but sex was off the table. I was a man, deep down. I was just learning to be a bit more feminine. In touch with my emotions.

Harry stopped near the accounting firm I apparently now worked at. It wasn’t unfamiliar to me; it was only two blocks away from the firm I once worked at, as a fucking lawyer. No matter what my masculinised partner said, it was certainly a step down in the world, particularly in pay.

“You’ll do fine, love,” he said. Something about his voice did indeed soothe me. He pressed a hand against my cheek, and I leaned comfortingly into it.

“Eso espero. I hope so.”

“You will. Now get out there and be the best damn secretary ever.”

I stepped out of the car, careful on my high heels, and adjusted my tight pencil skirt. I began to walk towards the door when I heard him call out.

“I’m sorry to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away!”

I gave him the middle finger and stuck out my tongue. Somehow, the flirty playfulness of it made me laugh. I stepped on in.

***

“Gabriella!” a blonde woman called. She ran to me and embraced me, surprisingly, in a hug. I just managed to catch that her name tag listed her as Eliza Hope. She pressed against me, and I felt her boobs squish against mine. Now that was a weird feeling.

“Hola Eliza,” I said back, still trying to work out what to do next.

She pulled away from me, still beaming.

“So good to see you, bestie! How was Darwin? Did you and Harry get some alone time, if you know what I mean? Where’s my ring, girl?”

I processed what she was saying.

“Um, no ring, not yet.”

“What? He’s stringing you on, mate. Tell your man he needs to lock you down already.”

“Si, I suppose. I’m sure he has his reasons.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, men always do, while we women wait. You should get on one knee and put the ring in his face. I bet he’s just too scared to take the next step.”

It was a surprising punch in the gut for me. Why had I not proposed to Holly by the time we took our holiday? She had often raised it, and I always delayed. Was it nervousness? Was I just stuck in my rut, unwilling to make the big change?

“Still, did you have a great time?”

I hesitated. “It was . . . transformative.”

“Ooh, mysterious! Well, that sounds promising. Nothing has changed back here. Greg is still in his cast, and Bob has missed having you as his secretary.”

“I’ll bet he has,” I said, sighing. Of course I get stuck with a pervy boss.

“What do you mean?” Eliza asked. “Not like he’s interested in you, babe. Probably the only man that isn’t. He’s gay, remember?”

“Oh,” I replied. “That’s right. Perdón, it’s been a tiring morning.”

She clasped me on my back. “That, my dear, is why coffee was invented. I’m so glad I’ve got my work buddy back. I can finally talk your ear off!”

***

That she certainly did. Eliza was a font of conversation, never stopping, but the weirdest thing was how strangely relaxing her endless chat was. She was stationed with me; it turns out that the higher ups in the firm often have more than one secretary at a time to field numerous calls and appointments and deal with paperwork. It would be more accurate to say we were secretaries of the firm heads, and I actually got to meet several of them, including Bob, who was a total sweetheart (the fact that I now used the word ‘sweetheart’ was evidence that femininity was rubbing off on me). Eliza and I talked whenever we could, and I used my questions to slowly gain answers about my own life, our friendship (seven years running, apparently), my work ethic (phenomenal, who knew!), even some of our workplace dynamics (apparently Gabriella liked to tease with a good low cut dress on party nights, no gracias!).

Bob was a good boss. He was happy to see me again (thank you, sir, I’ve never met you though!), and left me a welcome back gift in the form of chocolate.

“Woman’s best friend, isn’t it?”

“That’s diamonds, Bob,” Eliza said.

“Well, that might be above the paygrade.”

“Chocolate will do!” I said. I always enjoyed chocolate, but was pretty astonished at how much my new body was a chocolate fiend. I liked Bob already, and the rest of the day proved that impression right. He was fair, easy to please, and didn’t care if we gossipped and chatted and used our phones so long as we did the work, and I certainly knew a thing or two about work ethic. Enough to make up for Eliza, who sometimes got a bit distracted, much to my amusement.

But the weirdest part was how quickly it took me to get the hang of my new job. Yes, there were unfamiliar aspects to it, but after years of managing unruly clients, dealing with secretaries and aides from the other side, I was surprisingly able to improvise. There were some close calls of embarrassment, but some of these I could mask with my accent, or as possessing lesser English skills. And, to my utter shock, I even managed to overcome a mistake or two using my body. I never imagined I would dare flirt or present my chest to men as I did that shift, but I found that the small flutter of eyelashes, or breathing heavily in a certain way, or even looking demurely at the ground, would get men’s sympathy and interest. It was, strangely, like having a superpower in its own way; just by squaring my shoulders and bending back, I could control men’s minds. One look at my chest, straining as it was to escape my blouse, and all sins were forgiven.

Eliza made fun of me for it.

“Rusty as hell! It must have been a good trip to make you pull out those moves again!”

I laughed. She was a fun presence to be with, possessing the manic energy of a friend I’d known my whole life, and by the end of the shift we were already engaged in office gossip, most of which was about people I had, from my perspective, just met. By the end of the work day, I was not feeling spent, but instead invigorated.

“Well, we’ve still got some time,” Eliza said. “How about we have a little bit of fun together, and go shopping. I’ve missed going to the mall with my bestie!”

I wanted to reply in the negative, but I was so happy with my efforts that instead I replied, “Si! Si! Let’s do it!”

“Wonderful! I want something to make all the boys swoon. And you can get something that shows enough cleavage that Harry will simply have to propose on the spot.”

It was too late to back down, but what the hell was I getting myself into?

Holly:

I worried about how poor Gabriella was doing. I kept imagining her stuck at her desk, being hit on by some cruel boss who constantly gawked at her big boobs and made her feel victimised. She was getting so much better already at accepting a bit of a female state, but she still had a bit to go. I guess in many ways it is harder to go from a man to a woman, especially an attractive one. There’s a reduction of power, physical and in terms of how you are treated in society, and on top of that she also changed race and even primary language. It would be a lot to take in for anybody, but a hostile work environment? That would be the final straw. I had done my best to prepare her, with a bit of good humour too, but I was also preparing to have to console her again at the end of the day.

It meant that my first day was, in fact, a little stressful. For one, I was my own boss. I owned a number of rental properties, and was involved in the organisations of leasing several others, and that meant I had to independently check over them, as well as organisation building and renovations. Harry O’Neill was evidently quite successful; he kept a record of houses flipped, most of which were cheaper properties he’d worked to have fixed up and resold in the past, though now all the evidence pointed to me having achieved a level of success where I could pay others to do much of the physical labour for me, freeing up my time to invest, organise, and run the books.

For two, I was used to being in a job where I had others working with me. Now, I was largely on my own, making calls to others where necessary, seeing others with drop-ins, and talking to builders and the like, but I was effectively running it myself. The idle thought of hiring Gabriella as my personal secretary did come to mind, and that made me grin also, because it was hard not to imagine giving her the sexiest, tight little uniform imaginable and watching her squirm into it.

Well, at least if I had a boner at my work I was alone most of the time. But seriously, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. That image of her squeezing into her uniform was stuck on replay, and in the end I had to drive home, get some lube, lie back on the couch with the blinds shut, and simply stroke my hardness as I thought of her. That was the nice thing about being self-employed; I could go home mostly when I wanted, and given that my incredibly attractive fiancée was trying her damnest to avoid giving in to her attraction to me, I could also ‘clear out the valves’ as she had once put it as George. It was an incredible feeling, and I couldn’t deny there was a power to it. I wished I could thrust back into her again, and hear her high moans of delight. Finally, I came, and I just managed to reach the tissue in time, though even that got a bit flooded. My balls must have been aching to produce that much.

“Damn, being a bloke makes you really horny,” I said to myself.

I cleaned up, showered, and decided to head out to order some materials for a block I was apparently renovating. It would distract me from the sheer insanity that was George’s current body, as well as distract from my own anxiety over how he - or rather she - was faring.

To my shock, one of my old boyfriends was behind the counter; Curtis Derway. He looked exactly as I remembered him from years ago, though he’d gained a bit of weight. He had a mop of shaggy dark hair and an easy grin. I remember I’d dumped him for the same reason George and I had troubles; he hadn’t wanted to move the relationship ahead, and he could never show he was vulnerable. God, I had a type, didn’t I?

“Hiya Harry, great to see ya!” he called.

“Uh, great to see you too, Curtis,” I replied, moving to the counter to make my order from him.

“Still got that smoking hot gal of yours.”

“You know it,” I said with a grin. I actually did feel a bit like bragging.

“Gee, she’s something. Spanish women, am I right?”

“Well, you can tell me if you ever get one.”

He imitated a hand over his heart, as if he’d been shot. “Damn man, first you don’t tell me you’re back, and now this?”

Oh, shit. We were mates in this new reality?

“Sorry Curtis,” I said. “Been real busy. You know how it is.”

“No worries mate, I’m just ribbing you. It’s good to see you. How can I help you?”

I gave him the order, mostly pieces for a particular ring of fencing going around a property line in the backyard of a block. He was incredibly helpful, and we spent the several minutes it took to work it out just shooting the shit and laughing. There was something refreshing about ‘guy’s talk’. As much as I wanted, and was pleased to see, George open up as Gabriella, I had to admit that the easygoing way in which men related to one another, just chatting about surface level stuff but not in a way that was necessarily shallow, did indeed feel quite relaxing. Sure, it lacked a bit of depth, but it also lacked drama, and the draining levels of emotion. In fact, we yarned on long enough after the order was filled, mostly about work and sport (of which I had done a fantastic job of catching up on the Sydney Swans team players ever since I got back).

In the end, I had to go, but as I went to leave, I decided to turn back to Curtis.

“Hey mate, when do you finish today?”

He grinned. “Mate, I finished twenty minutes ago. Why do you think I was chatting with you so long? Why, did you wanna grab a stubbie?”

I laughed. “Yeah, why not, eh?”

George:

I came home with more than a few new bras, dresses, and shoes, all thanks to that scheming friend Eliza. She giggled as she forced them on me, instructing me to put them on and check myself out. I couldn’t deny, I did in fact look absolutely fucking stellar. Utterly hermosa. In fact, one green dress was borderline scandalous, and it was only after Eliza blackmailed me with a threat of sending a pic of me in it to Harry that I let her buy it for me. She may be my new bestie, apparently, but she was also a damned hurricane.

By the time I got home, I was feeling more exhausted. Oddly, despite having the more flexible job of the two of us, Harry wasn’t home yet. I hoped his day went as well as mine, and I couldn’t wait to brag to him that I had actually managed to be an amazing secretary. A real superstar. Still, his absence gave me time to hide away the clothes I had bought, including the pushup bra. It made me go red in the cheeks to imagine those pushing up my mammoth boobs. Dios mio, I’d probably cause cars to crash if I ever stood near the road. When I tried it on with Eliza watching, she said that it made my tits ‘look like mountains.’ This was a good thing in her view, and would certainly be to any red-blooded male who wasn’t gay. I hid it near the back of my bra drawer.

“I think I’ll use a less extravagant sostén,” I said to it.

My stomach growled. I was tempted to simply order takeout, but I thought of what Harry/Holly had said, about being more accommodating, and accepting our roles for the year. Thankfully, I wasn’t an idle housewife - I’d be a trophy wife, given my looks - but there was a reason there were many ingredients and cookbooks around the house that pointed to my new ancestry.

“Qué diablos,” I said. What the hell. “I might as well give it a shot.”

I stripped out of my work clothes, and held my chest to stop it from wobbling so damn much. Sure, it could be a little fun, but with tits this big and heavy, they were constantly ‘active.’ I dressed up in a light summer dress. It was pink, but one thing that could be said in my favour was that even if I had been a little too toxic in my masculinity prior to my change, I had never really been ashamed to wear pink. That level of embarrassment was for weak men, in my view. Once dressed, I pulled my curly black hair back into a ponytail (Harry had certainly helped me develop that motion), and set to work in the kitchen.

“Just follow the instructions,” I said to myself.

Holly:

I came home having greatly enjoyed my beers with Curtis, but feeling a little bad that I’d missed Gabriella’s text messages. When I entered, there was a delicious smell in the air.

“Honey, I’m home!” I called out, unable to resist the cliche.

“I’m in the kitchen!” she returned, apparently following suit on the cliche.

“Oh my God, what’s that wonderful smell?”

“Come and see!”

I did. Gabriella was in the kitchen looking utterly gorgeous in a flowing pink summer dress, her bust tenting out the front, and a tasteful hint of cleavage showing. Her hair was back in a messy ponytail that looked unintentionally quite sexy. And she was presenting a set of delicious dishes I didn’t recognise, but looked amazing.

“Paella Valenciana,” she said proudly, gesturing to a rice dish. “It took me two tries, but I think I got it just right.”

“I’ll say,” I said, “it smells amazing at least. But, I’ve got to ask honey, how was your day?”

She looked me in the eye, and beamed. “Honestly? It was amazing. You should have seen me, querido. I have a wonderful boss, and I now have a lovely new girlfriend, and I was actually good at being a secretary, believe it or not!”

My heart raised. It was like a tension I’d carried all day finally settled. She looked so cute, and the moment was too perfect that I couldn’t help it. I grabbed her, and pulled her in for a kiss. She didn’t fight it, simply yelped in shock, before kissing me back, her full lips as tasty as any dish she’d prepared. I held her hips, my hands trailing down slowly to her ass.

She batted them with a wooden spoon, ending my enjoyment.

“Back, boy, back,” she said. “We agreed no sex.”

“That was hardly sex.”

“Your pene was practically stabbing me. And besides, I don’t want dinner getting cold. How was your day?” She asked this as she set the table.

“It was good. Tiring, stressful, and a bit lonely, but you’ll never guess who is my good friend in this strange new timeline? Curtis Derway.”

“No, really?”

“Yeah! He’s doing well for himself at the supply depot. We were having beers together before I came over.”

“You used to date him!”

“Well, I don’t think that’s a danger now, dear.”

She sighed, taking a seat. “Well, I suppose that’s true. What strange new lives we lead. But . . . the day was good. I actually had a lot of fun. I think they really like me at the firm.” My eyes fell to her breasts, and I grinned. “Not like that, idiota! Yes, I get some stares, and I can’t blame them with this ridiculous body. But they actually liked me, for me! Eliza especially, and Bob, my boss.”

“Does this Bob-”

“He’s gay.”

“Oh, good.”

She chuckled. “Maybe we can do this. You know, be girlfriend and boyfriend. I know it’s just one day, but if we both feel we succeed - and I even managed to make us up dinner - then perhaps we can make it.”

I looked at the delicious meal before us. Indeed, George had almost never made dinner, and now as Gabriella I hadn’t even asked. He was most certainly changing, and I couldn’t claim it wasn’t for the better. The same certainly applied to me. I held out my large, masculine hand and took her soft, delicate one, my white skin against her gorgeous brown olive. I looked her in those beautiful eyes, seeing my male fiancé within them, but also the woman she’d become.

“You know, Gabriella, I agree. I think we can make it.”

She blushed a little as she grinned.

“C’mon, let’s eat dinner together, then curl up and watch a movie like we used to.”

I grabbed my fork and tucked in.

To Be Continued . . .