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Part 2

As lunchtime rolled around, Lucy still hadn't returned to her desk. Mark's stomach rumbled, but he couldn't muster the courage to venture outside, dreading any further ridicule. He was stuck shifting gingerly in her seat, watching as the usual office hustle and bustle continued on without him.

With great reluctance, he finally opened the lunchbox on Lucy's desk, revealing a carefully prepared salad. This wasn’t his usual midday feast, but he resigned himself to it in an effort to maintain some semblance of dignity.

He felt awkward in the chair, mincing slightly with each delicate pick of his salad. In an attempt to steady himself, he unconsciously began to cross his legs beneath the desk which somehow instantly drew the attention of Olivia. She couldn’t help but stifle a giggle as at the sight of Mark in such a feminine manner.

The afternoon wore on, and Mark’s position as the office secretary was increasingly cemented. As ever, Victoria Taylor's commanding presence dominated the room, with the two women now busying themselves with preparations for a speech. The topic seemed to be an important one, addressing the problems caused by men in positions of power and the need for women to empower each other.

But Mark struggled to pay attention, he quickly realized that he was only wanted for secretarial tasks while Olivia, the intern, was fully involved in the important discussions. As the ladies discussed statistics, anecdotes, and potential solutions, Mark began to quietly sulk in the corner, drifting off into his own moody thoughts.

Suddenly, Victoria Taylor's voice broke through, pulling him back to reality. "Mark, did you get that?" she interrupted, her stern authoritative tone ringing in his ears.

Mark quickly scrambled into action, but his hand knocked over a cup of coffee on the desk, spilling it all over his lap. The hot liquid soaked through his clothes, causing him to yelp in an embarrassingly high pitched squeal.

Victoria sighed with exasperation. "Mark, you're such a klutz," she scolded, her voice dripping with disapproval. "Head to the Little Girls' Room, clean up, and wrap a towel around yourself. We can't afford any document mishaps."

Mark hung his head low, his face burning with humiliation. Without comment, hurried off to the toilets, his wet clothes sticking tightly to his skin and pinching between his cheeks. He tried desperately to salvage his dignity and dry the clothes but it was no use, the coffee had soaked right through.

Admitting defeat, he awkwardly wrapped a towel around his waist and abandoned his clothes in the corner to collect later. With nowhere left to turn, he hurried back down the corridor to the relative safety of the office in a state of exposed panic.

However, the sense of safety he hoped for didn’t last long, for when he returned, Victoria took one long look at him, before turning away to her intern with a face of disgust.

His boss was not one to tolerate any disruptions in her work, especially on such an important speech. "Olivia, take him home, and get him dry. We can’t afford any more delays." Victoria then tossed her the keys to her own car, a privilege Mark had never been granted before.

Olivia simply flashed Mark a mischievous grin as she grabbed her bag. "Come on, Mikaela," she teased, using the old nickname from their school days.

Mark sighed in resignation, feeling thoroughly humiliated as he shuffled slowly behind her in his fragile state. He followed Olivia to the car, gingerly getting into the passenger seat as she took the wheel of Miss Taylor’s bentley.

Within moments, Olivia was skillfully navigating the car through traffic at high speeds, casting sly glances at Mark, "So, Mikaela, how are you finding the bitch seat?. This engine packs a punch doesn’t it?"

Mark could only nod, hanging his head in shame. He would’ve loved to have driven this car, but he felt so small and vulnerable beside her in the passenger seat with only a towel for modesty. She was supposed to be his junior, and yet he felt like a shy intern, nervously scrunching up his painted toes in the girly flats he’d been given.

The journey felt endless, and he could think of nothing but getting his own place to change back into his own clothes. But as they finally reached a familiar junction, he was surprised to find Olivia turning the car in the opposite direction.

Olivia clearly had other plans, "You know, Mikaela, my apartment is much closer. It would save us both some time.", she casually mentioned.

Mark's face turned several shades of red as he realized what she was suggesting. He stammered in protest, "Uh, well, I mean, I could just go to my own apartment..."

Olivia gave him a sly look, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Come on, Mark," she said playfully, "it's just a few minutes away. You’re on the other side of town. Besides, you don't want to be seen in public like this, do you?"

When they arrived at her apartment building, Olivia led Mark inside, her playful demeanor never wavering. She unlocked the door to her apartment and gestured for him to enter. "Make yourself at home, Mikaela," she said, her tone laced with amusement.

Mark hesitated at the threshold but ultimately stepped inside, gripping the sides of his towel. Olivia disappeared into another room, leaving Mark alone to contemplate his predicament. He was desperate to get out of the towel and put on something dry, but the idea of wearing Olivia's clothing was a whole new level of humiliation.

It wasn’t long before she returned with a stack of clothes in her arms. "Alright, Mikaela, time to get you dressed," Olivia declared with a grin.

Mark's eyes widened in disbelief at the clothes she’d brought him. He had expected to change into maybe some leggings or a loose jumper, but this was something else entirely.

Before him was a horrifying stack of feminine frippery. There was a white blouse, a bright pink skirt, and even a set of lacey panties. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "You're wearing a pantsuit, and I'm supposed to wear...this?"

Olivia arched an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. "Mark, we're going to be in a professional setting, and this is the attire for secretaries," she replied curtly, there was a hint of sarcasm, yet her tone left no room for argument.

It was a ridiculous statement, and yet Olivia's confident demeanor left him feeling strangely powerless. "and besides," she added with a playful smirk, "you were already wearing a miniskirt and a pair of girls' shoes. If anything this provides a much greater level of modesty"

Mark's face flushed crimson, “It’s just a towel”, he tried to protest, but she was right. He felt completely exposed and emasculated with nothing to wear but a sad towel pulled tightly around his waist. At least her clothes would be dry and see him through to the end of the day, it could hardly be any worse than his current predicament.

In silent frustration, he removed the towel and began to get dressed with little care for his own modesty. Olivia's sharp eyes quickly caught sight of his toes which were still adorned with the bright red nail polish from earlier.

Olivia couldn't contain her laughter as she watched Mark awkwardly try to hide them from her view. "Did you do those yourself? That’s adorable, Mikaela," she teased, her amusement evident.

Reduced to a now pitiful state, Mark reluctantly began to put on the clothes that Olivia handed him without question. The panties and bra were made of a delicate, soft lace that felt foreign against his skin. As he slipped them on, the fabric clung to him, tickling and teasing his body in ways he had never experienced before. He couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine as the lace caressed his skin.

The skirt Olivia had chosen was a flowing, floral-printed chiffon that swished with every movement. Its lightweight fabric seemed to expose his legs at unexpected moments, making him feel even more vulnerable. With shame, he noticed that his underdeveloped, almost hairless legs looked surprisingly good.

Olivia couldn't hold back her laughter as she watched Mark adjust to his new attire. "You know, Mikaela," she remarked, her tone playful, "I think you might have missed your calling as a fashion model. You look quite stunning in that skirt."

Mark's face flushed an even deeper shade of red at Olivia's comments. He had never felt so exposed and emasculated in his life, and the sensation of the feminine fabric against his skin only served to intensify his discomfort. He couldn't wait for the end of the day, it was going to be difficult to live this day down but at least at 5pm he could finally return to some semblance of normalcy.

However, upon searching for the time, and his phone, he realised the reality of female attire left no room for pockets. He glanced around, wondering where to place his wallet, phone, and keys. He awkwardly held them in his hands, unsure of what to do.

Olivia, noticing his predicament, swiftly plucked the items from his hands. "Don't worry, Mikaela," she said, her tone dripping with amusement, "I'll take care of these for you."

Before Mark could protest, Olivia dashed off with glee, leaving him standing there feeling exposed and helpless. Moments later, she returned with a humiliatingly dainty purse for him to carry.

With a flourish, Olivia handed him the purse, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Here you go, Mikaela," she teased, "a girl like yourself should always have a place to carry her essentials."

Mark accepted the purse with a reluctant sigh, his humiliation deepening by the minute. He couldn't believe how thoroughly he had become putty in Olivia’s hands. It was just like his old schooldays all over again, and Olivia seemed to be revelling in it.

Description

Part 2

As lunchtime rolled around, Lucy still hadn't returned to her desk. Mark's stomach rumbled, but he couldn't muster the courage to venture outside, dreading any further ridicule. He was stuck shifting gingerly in her seat, watching as the usual office hustle and bustle continued on without him.

With great reluctance, he finally opened the lunchbox on Lucy's desk, revealing a carefully prepared salad. This wasn’t his usual midday feast, but he resigned himself to it in an effort to maintain some semblance of dignity.

He felt awkward in the chair, mincing slightly with each delicate pick of his salad. In an attempt to steady himself, he unconsciously began to cross his legs beneath the desk which somehow instantly drew the attention of Olivia. She couldn’t help but stifle a giggle as at the sight of Mark in such a feminine manner.

The afternoon wore on, and Mark’s position as the office secretary was increasingly cemented. As ever, Victoria Taylor's commanding presence dominated the room, with the two women now busying themselves with preparations for a speech. The topic seemed to be an important one, addressing the problems caused by men in positions of power and the need for women to empower each other.

But Mark struggled to pay attention, he quickly realized that he was only wanted for secretarial tasks while Olivia, the intern, was fully involved in the important discussions. As the ladies discussed statistics, anecdotes, and potential solutions, Mark began to quietly sulk in the corner, drifting off into his own moody thoughts.

Suddenly, Victoria Taylor's voice broke through, pulling him back to reality. "Mark, did you get that?" she interrupted, her stern authoritative tone ringing in his ears.

Mark quickly scrambled into action, but his hand knocked over a cup of coffee on the desk, spilling it all over his lap. The hot liquid soaked through his clothes, causing him to yelp in an embarrassingly high pitched squeal.

Victoria sighed with exasperation. "Mark, you're such a klutz," she scolded, her voice dripping with disapproval. "Head to the Little Girls' Room, clean up, and wrap a towel around yourself. We can't afford any document mishaps."

Mark hung his head low, his face burning with humiliation. Without comment, hurried off to the toilets, his wet clothes sticking tightly to his skin and pinching between his cheeks. He tried desperately to salvage his dignity and dry the clothes but it was no use, the coffee had soaked right through.

Admitting defeat, he awkwardly wrapped a towel around his waist and abandoned his clothes in the corner to collect later. With nowhere left to turn, he hurried back down the corridor to the relative safety of the office in a state of exposed panic.

However, the sense of safety he hoped for didn’t last long, for when he returned, Victoria took one long look at him, before turning away to her intern with a face of disgust.

His boss was not one to tolerate any disruptions in her work, especially on such an important speech. "Olivia, take him home, and get him dry. We can’t afford any more delays." Victoria then tossed her the keys to her own car, a privilege Mark had never been granted before.

Olivia simply flashed Mark a mischievous grin as she grabbed her bag. "Come on, Mikaela," she teased, using the old nickname from their school days.

Mark sighed in resignation, feeling thoroughly humiliated as he shuffled slowly behind her in his fragile state. He followed Olivia to the car, gingerly getting into the passenger seat as she took the wheel of Miss Taylor’s bentley.

Within moments, Olivia was skillfully navigating the car through traffic at high speeds, casting sly glances at Mark, "So, Mikaela, how are you finding the bitch seat?. This engine packs a punch doesn’t it?"

Mark could only nod, hanging his head in shame. He would’ve loved to have driven this car, but he felt so small and vulnerable beside her in the passenger seat with only a towel for modesty. She was supposed to be his junior, and yet he felt like a shy intern, nervously scrunching up his painted toes in the girly flats he’d been given.

The journey felt endless, and he could think of nothing but getting his own place to change back into his own clothes. But as they finally reached a familiar junction, he was surprised to find Olivia turning the car in the opposite direction.

Olivia clearly had other plans, "You know, Mikaela, my apartment is much closer. It would save us both some time.", she casually mentioned.

Mark's face turned several shades of red as he realized what she was suggesting. He stammered in protest, "Uh, well, I mean, I could just go to my own apartment..."

Olivia gave him a sly look, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Come on, Mark," she said playfully, "it's just a few minutes away. You’re on the other side of town. Besides, you don't want to be seen in public like this, do you?"

When they arrived at her apartment building, Olivia led Mark inside, her playful demeanor never wavering. She unlocked the door to her apartment and gestured for him to enter. "Make yourself at home, Mikaela," she said, her tone laced with amusement.

Mark hesitated at the threshold but ultimately stepped inside, gripping the sides of his towel. Olivia disappeared into another room, leaving Mark alone to contemplate his predicament. He was desperate to get out of the towel and put on something dry, but the idea of wearing Olivia's clothing was a whole new level of humiliation.

It wasn’t long before she returned with a stack of clothes in her arms. "Alright, Mikaela, time to get you dressed," Olivia declared with a grin.

Mark's eyes widened in disbelief at the clothes she’d brought him. He had expected to change into maybe some leggings or a loose jumper, but this was something else entirely.

Before him was a horrifying stack of feminine frippery. There was a white blouse, a bright pink skirt, and even a set of lacey panties. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "You're wearing a pantsuit, and I'm supposed to wear...this?"

Olivia arched an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. "Mark, we're going to be in a professional setting, and this is the attire for secretaries," she replied curtly, there was a hint of sarcasm, yet her tone left no room for argument.

It was a ridiculous statement, and yet Olivia's confident demeanor left him feeling strangely powerless. "and besides," she added with a playful smirk, "you were already wearing a miniskirt and a pair of girls' shoes. If anything this provides a much greater level of modesty"

Mark's face flushed crimson, “It’s just a towel”, he tried to protest, but she was right. He felt completely exposed and emasculated with nothing to wear but a sad towel pulled tightly around his waist. At least her clothes would be dry and see him through to the end of the day, it could hardly be any worse than his current predicament.

In silent frustration, he removed the towel and began to get dressed with little care for his own modesty. Olivia's sharp eyes quickly caught sight of his toes which were still adorned with the bright red nail polish from earlier.

Olivia couldn't contain her laughter as she watched Mark awkwardly try to hide them from her view. "Did you do those yourself? That’s adorable, Mikaela," she teased, her amusement evident.

Reduced to a now pitiful state, Mark reluctantly began to put on the clothes that Olivia handed him without question. The panties and bra were made of a delicate, soft lace that felt foreign against his skin. As he slipped them on, the fabric clung to him, tickling and teasing his body in ways he had never experienced before. He couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine as the lace caressed his skin.

The skirt Olivia had chosen was a flowing, floral-printed chiffon that swished with every movement. Its lightweight fabric seemed to expose his legs at unexpected moments, making him feel even more vulnerable. With shame, he noticed that his underdeveloped, almost hairless legs looked surprisingly good.

Olivia couldn't hold back her laughter as she watched Mark adjust to his new attire. "You know, Mikaela," she remarked, her tone playful, "I think you might have missed your calling as a fashion model. You look quite stunning in that skirt."

Mark's face flushed an even deeper shade of red at Olivia's comments. He had never felt so exposed and emasculated in his life, and the sensation of the feminine fabric against his skin only served to intensify his discomfort. He couldn't wait for the end of the day, it was going to be difficult to live this day down but at least at 5pm he could finally return to some semblance of normalcy.

However, upon searching for the time, and his phone, he realised the reality of female attire left no room for pockets. He glanced around, wondering where to place his wallet, phone, and keys. He awkwardly held them in his hands, unsure of what to do.

Olivia, noticing his predicament, swiftly plucked the items from his hands. "Don't worry, Mikaela," she said, her tone dripping with amusement, "I'll take care of these for you."

Before Mark could protest, Olivia dashed off with glee, leaving him standing there feeling exposed and helpless. Moments later, she returned with a humiliatingly dainty purse for him to carry.

With a flourish, Olivia handed him the purse, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Here you go, Mikaela," she teased, "a girl like yourself should always have a place to carry her essentials."

Mark accepted the purse with a reluctant sigh, his humiliation deepening by the minute. He couldn't believe how thoroughly he had become putty in Olivia’s hands. It was just like his old schooldays all over again, and Olivia seemed to be revelling in it.