I am Salman. But she used to call me Salma, even though she was 15 years younger to me. She would keep throwing compliments on how intelligent, down-to-earth and helpful I am. We were not neighbours, not friends or siblings or even colleagues. I met her at a friend’s party and as it turned out she was looking for a job in film production. As I knew someone in one of the production houses those days, I put in a word for her. Next thing I heard was she had the job and in her words, “I was now her best friend.” I just took it as a cute gesture from a 21 year old girl. So I just let it be.
But soon I started getting messages from her. Messages of gratitude, well-being, festive wishes, messages about keeping in touch and even the jokes and funny videos floating around. As my work had a lot to do with social media, I was mostly online. So while initially I kept on letting those messages be, I eventually started replying to her. That’s where it actually started. Because any advice, suggestion or a compliment or acknowledgement from my end would be replied with, “How sweet, Salma!”, “How cute, Salma!”, and “Thanks bestie!”, mixed with not so frequent, “Kitni achhi ho!” (meaning you are so nice, particularly using a female pronoun). And then kept on adding more like the last one.
In a way, that while I was just laughing it off thinking it’s coming from a little girl, there came a time when just out of fun, I started replying like a girl too. Which initially was actually only having fun, but later I didn’t even realise when it became a normal way of talking. As very soon, she was only addressing me with female pronouns and also I would always reply as if I was a girl only. It somehow worked like hypnosis. And it wasn’t just the thing, as the next change was that while starting a conversation, she would also pick up topics which revolve around girls or things that are related to them or interest them. She would send me pictures of actresses and ask me about their dressing style. She would shop her make-up stuff online and would ask me to choose a shade of lipstick. She would share articles related to female fashion designs, fashion shows, new types of outfit styles, etc. She would even send videos like make-up tutorials, would discuss things like eyebrows and hairstyles and what not. In fact, if and when I would ask her opinion about a t-shirt by sending her a picture, she would say things like, “If it had a keyhole design, would have been better.” Or “if it had net sleeves, would have been really hot.” If I would by chance tell her that I am going on a date, she would be like, “dress well, Salma” and would then send me a picture of her wardrobe with a note, “You can borrow anything you like, Salma. Waise tu jo bhi pehne achhi hi lagti hai.” It so happened that one day she said, “I owe you big time. You got me a job when my family needed it so much and I never got to thank you properly. So Salma, I am taking you out for dinner at the weekend. Just keep yourself free. And no arguments or excuses.”
While I was waiting for the weekend, so she would stop saying thank you after all. But on the other hand, she was waiting for the weekend because she was genuinely excited. So much that she kept my phone buzzing with her WhatsApps. And whenever I would open, there will be a long list of dresses and shoes and makeup items with of course a note “Which one should I wear for the dinner, Salma?” or “What are you wearing for the dinner, Salma?” Just to make her relax, I answered after all. “I am wearing a black skirt and a pink top.” But I didn’t know this will take the conversation into another zone only. Now, instead of a list with a note asking for my opinion, she now started sending me pictures of shoes and accessories and makeup that would go with ‘pink top and black skirt”. Now I made another mistake out of irritation. I replied, “Why don’t you then gift me some? Surprise instead of asking me. I want to see how much do you know me before going on a dinner with you.”
Unfortunately, e-commerce has got really fast these days. But I had no idea this much. Exactly two days later, I was in my cabin when the office security guard called me on my intercom. “Sir, there is a parcel in the name of Salma. Since there is no Salma in this office, I thought it might be a mistake and the parcel must be for Salman. So I thought I would check with you.” I told him that yes, that might be the case and also told him to just keep it with himself and I will collect in the evening while going home. But then after that I just couldn’t focus. I checked my phone if there are any messages from her. But there weren’t any. I logged out two hours earlier that day and stopped on my way out to take the parcel from the guard. Turns out, it was not one parcel but there were 3-4 packs of different sizes.
As I couldn’t wait to reach home to see what she has done, I got into my car, parked it somewhere aloof and opened the parcels one by one starting with the smallest one. My jaw dropped to see a full makeup kit from Kay by Katrina with a note “Because Salma can’t be looking like Salman”. I was sweating already. I kept the first aside and opened the second one. I was shocked again. It was a lingerie set by a brand called Adore Me. The note said, ”I think Salma is more of a pink person, what say?” I was prepared for the worst and I opened the third one. A pair of pink satin pumps, seriously? The note read, “Because with that job offer, you really tik-toked into my life.” Now it was the time for the last one. And I thought knew what would be in there and I was right. A black pencil skirt by Mango and a pink puff sleeved satin top by Vero Moda. The note said, “I think Salma would make a sexy secretary, what do you think?”
Honestly, I was more irritated than furious. Because this bestie thing was now going beyond the line. So, I was about to text her when something came to my mind. I thought let me just have a re-look at the stuff. Maybe I got psyched. Maybe it’s actually all hers and without looking at the size, I got paranoid. Now obviously I wouldn’t know if the lingerie set or the outfit would fit me, so I picked up the most obvious thing. The pumps. I took off one of my shoes and tried wearing the pumps. I was shocked to see it fit just right. How the hell did she know my foot size, I thought. Must have told her in one of those pretending-to-be-a-girl conversations.
I was about to take it off when I heard a knock on my side of the door. I looked up and it was her. I still was wearing the heels. I had my heart in my mouth. Before I could react, she had opened the door. Shit! I forgot to lock. I thought. I knew it was going to be hard to make her believe what I was doing and why. I was still thinking when she clicked a few pictures and then asked me to step out. Threatening me to spread the pictures if I don’t. So, I stepped out while still wearing the heels. She quickly stepped back and again clicked several times. “Ah! Thanks. Hadn’t got the heels in the first click.” How stupid I could be. I just tried to tell her what and why I was doing. Surprisingly, she believed me. “You are not that kind of man, I know.” I got a sigh of relief but she continued. “But what if you really have to be? Go out on a dinner dressed as a girl with a girl 15 years younger to you? We don’t really have to call it a dinner date or whatever. We could just be sisters or girlfriends. Or depending on what kind of makeup you choose, mom and daughter.” And she started laughing hysterically.
I must be looking constipated. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run. “What the hell are you doing here?” I finally asked. “Have you been following me?” She had an evil grin on her face. “I hand delivered these parcels at your office. First I thought of coming inside and give you a surprise. Then I thought of asking the guard, so he would call you out and we both would see your frightened face. But then I thought goose chase would be even more exciting. So yes, I followed you. Not really though. Because I waited in the car to meet you but when you left in hurry, I followed and saw you stop here. So, I parked my car outside only and walked in here quietly. I was right here at your door ever since you opened the first parcel. You just didn’t notice.”
I took out a bottle of water, had a sip, tried to breathe before I asked her. “Can you please take all that stuff now, so I can go home?” She smiled again. “Okay, as you say. But what about these pictures. I am sure it would be a nice meme material and imagine the thread finally reaches your office group. WhatsApp can be surprising!” I started shouting at her thinking it would scare her away or she would know the prank is over. But she was in a different mood only. “Well, there’s one more way. And that doesn’t even mean you have to come for that dinner. But you do have to come for another dinner. Tonight. Completely dolled up using all those gifts. And that dinner will be at my place. So, we will go to a salon from here. Get you all fixed. Then you can change there only. And I will drive you to my place. You can leave your car here. And don’t worry, I just stay with my roommate. She just had a breakup. Been all sad and sobbing recently. This would cheer her up too. Just one night. I will drop you here in the morning and you can go directly to your office.”
I was quiet. I didn’t know what to say. So she made an insta story of my pictures, not only the ones in heels but the ones in which I was opening all those parcels. She had titled it “Boss Wants To Be A Secretary” and was about to press the share button when I said “Ok. Ok, I will come along. Get in the car.” She showed me her car keys. “You are the secretary, Salma. Secretaries don’t drive. Not the one in heels at least. So take your outfit, makeup, clothes and leave your car behind.” I was about to change back into the shoes when she stopped me showing the same insta story. “No no no, keep wearing them. I don’t want my sexy secretary to wear those bulky man shoes.”
We got into her car. She opened the passenger door for me and get into the driving seat herself.” I was tired and I didn’t know when I fell asleep. But when I woke up, there were two other girls in the car and we had already reached her house. She saw my confusion and said, “Oh, I thought my friend would enjoy seeing you while these two girls doll you up. Come in now. We are late.” Just as my hand went for the door, I realised I she had already got down and around to open the door for me. She took my hand and helped me get out as I might stumble because of the heels. As I took her hand and got out and up, the purse from her elbow slid down to mine. Not to be surprised, it was the exact same pink as the heels I was wearing. She then pulled me inside by my hand and as we were entering, she saw my bulky Casio watch. She opened the buckle and took it off and then replaced it with her own. A very sleek and feminine black strap watch with a pink dial that was surrounded by Swarovski studs. She also took off my tie, opened the collar button and put her pink satin scarf around my neck and made a tight choker knot. So wearing a three piece black suit but with pink pumps, pink handbag and a satin pink scarf, I was looking like an androgynous man.
Satisfied with my introductory look, she called her friend out. She came and she just hugged me, giving me a cheek to cheek just like girls do. I was not shocked at all when I was introduced as Salma, the secretary to her. The girl had already been told that we were going out for a party as she just asked me, “Are you coming for the party like this? Babe, secretary ki tarah hi jaana hai party mein toh at least skirt hi pehen le, why trousers?” Her way of talking was like we knew each other for long. But what got stuck in my head was the fact that while I was told it’s going to be a house dinner and cheer the girl up session, it was suddenly a party that meant going out. But as a woman? As a secretary? Even though I was constantly being reminded of the pictures to keep me in control, turns out it wasn’t going to be a quick dress up, quick party, go home and forget about it scenario. I was not only being feminized by everyone, but one step at a time.
Like one of the girls came and offered to help with my jacket. So I let her take it off. But then she opened my shirt’s bottom few buttons and tied it like girls do, almost revealing my naval. I was then offered a drink and asked to relax when the little blackmailer came and just took my pants off. I almost threw the drink up and spoiled my white shirt. She screamed, “Can someone get her a top? Ms. Secretary can’t even handle her drink. I don’t know how she handles her boss.” She looked at my ass in briefs and teased, “That ass must be getting spanked almost daily.” I don’t know if I was just tired or was it the drink that was making me lose control, but then as I sat there on the sofa, someone or the other kept coming. One girl came and did my eyebrows and which I was not in my senses enough to know won’t grow back for some good time now. The other one started doing my face. In between, another girl came and gave me a satin robe. Then another one came and removed the gown to give me a bra. My make up was done. But not at sophisticated and simple as a secretary should wear but somewhat towards slutty. Dark eye shadow, long liner strokes, thick coat of mascara, long false lashes and dark pink glossy lipstick that made my lips look dripping all the time. To my shock, a girl came and cut my briefs off with scissors. “Salma yaar, aise kaise baithi hai? Panty toh pehen le.” She teased.
Before I knew, my little blackmailer clicked a lot of pictures of me sitting with full makeup and just bra and panty. Then two of them sat around painting my nails pink. Then came a weird request or orders. As they were doing my nails, the breakup girl asked me sit on her lap while I get my all 10 painted. The girl either kept on pulling and releasing my bra straps or she would just tuck a finger in the backside waistband of my panty. The drink, the makeup, the lingerie and the tickling, it all was giving me a sensory overload. Even when my nails were done, she didn’t let me get up from her lap and asked the girls to keep doing whatever they can while I am on her lap. I was given fishnet stockings.
Then I was just allowed to get up only for a few seconds as they put the pink blouse and the black pencil skirt on me. The skirt zipped in the back and she zipped it pulling me down on her lap again. Then the blouse (that had puff sleeves and a slightly deep peter pan collar) also had a long zipper in the back and I could feel her hands running all along my back almost in a foreplay manner as she zipped it up. Now as I already had my ears pierced in which I used to wear little golden wire-thin rings, were now decorated with long silver hoops that tickled my neck as I moved my head. A long silver chain with a pearl drop pendant was added that reached my non existent cleavage. Which they instantly stuffed with cotton balls. A few pink glass bangles were added on the right wrist as the left one was already sporting a feminine watch. The feet were put back in my pumps again.
Then as she just asked me to switch lap from left to right, I was given a wig. It was a jaw length bob. So because of the sheer movement, I was always aware of having long hair. Now as I was not habitual of carrying a hairstyle like that, one of them gave me a clip on the right side with little pink stones in it. Now that I was ready, I was handed the handbag again with all my female essentials as they called them. Finally, I was asked to sit on the lap of each girl one by one as they all clicked selfies with me either kissing them on the cheek or feeding them some fruits. As the clock struck 12, everyone started singing happy birthday song. Turns out it was the birthday of the breakup girl. The cake was brought. I was again pulled by her on her lap and she cut the cake, I fed it to her with my hands. She fed it to her friends and then everyone had me lick their fingers clean thoroughly. And as I did so, more pictures were clicked and videos were recorded. So when we all cleaned up and even my makeup was refreshed, I just asked my little blackmailer that if you had told earlier, we could have picked a gift for the birthday girl.
They all started laughing at this. My blackmailer came from behind and tied a red ribbon around my neck and whispered, “Haven’t you realised? You are the gift, Salma. You are the gift. A sexy secretary. Who will be a secretary to all of us for a couple of months at least before those feminine arches of yours get slightly bushy again. Unless you want to tell your colleagues that this is your way of coming out of the closet.” She teased. “Now, won’t these sexy clothes and makeup will all be a waste if you don’t show them off and shake that booty at some nightclub?” With these words, I was pulled out to the parking lot. All the four girls got in and I kept standing outside when one of them teased and winked. “It’s a four seater, babe. Now, choose a lap quickly, will you?” So, I quietly got in and sat on the birthday girl’s lap. Her right hand immediately started playing with my waist and the left one held and squeezed my imaginary breast. In between my moans, as she kissed me on the lips, I said, “Happy Birthday, Boss! I think I am your new secretary.” She squeezed harder, “And what’s your name?” I shied a little as I answered, “You can call me Salma!”