1. Office in the shade
Julian was 22, nearing the end of his office management training, and was considered a true star in his department. Well-dressed, friendly, and smart—someone who would go far. He was polite, charming, and had that certain something about him that others found hard to grasp.
But what no one knew: Behind his controlled facade lurked a second life. After work, Julian was no longer the disciplined trainee with his ironed shirt. Then he became Lena .
His department was a purely male domain—businesslike, dry, characterized by long Excel spreadsheets, internal meetings, and routine procedures. Of the ten employees there, only two were female, both older and barely integrated into the social circle. Often, almost regularly, remarks like:
“A little more femininity would really do the store good.”
“Why are the pretty colleagues always in marketing or HR?”
Julian listened. He sometimes laughed along, even though he was still feeling the urge. He had long since realized: the world he lived in wasn’t yet ready for what lay dormant within him.
And yet… it appealed to him. Not just because it was an outburst, but because Lena was his truth—not fake, not invented. She was another facet of himself. One who strode through the night in pumps instead of sneakers through the cafeteria.
2. Transformation
Friday was long. Columns of numbers, a drawn-out customer meeting, then an update to the inventory management system. When the clock finally struck 5:00 PM, Julian was ready. With a brief smile, he said goodbye:
“I wish you a relaxing weekend.”
No one suspected how special his would be.
Once home, Julian closed the door, put down his cell phone and keys, opened the hidden closet under his bed—and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she could appear. Lena .
First, the shower. Warm water, the scent of vanilla and white musk. He shaved thoroughly: legs, arms, chest, and underarms. Then he applied a glittery body lotion that made his skin shimmer. The music was soft—synth-pop, French, feminine.
Then the real magic began:
- Silicone hip pads – for round, feminine hips
- A push-up corset – for a seductive cleavage
- Soft silicone breasts , perfectly shaped
- A black, body-shaping bodysuit that encompassed everything
He moved differently once everything was in place. More feminine. More sensual.
The underwear : a black lace thong and 20-denier hold-up stockings with a back seam.
The dress: black, tight, off-the-shoulder , with gold accents – elegant, sexy, and confident.
The 10-cm patent leather pumps – classic, yet dangerously beautiful.
He painted his nails a subtle rose, added a gold heart necklace , large hoop earrings, and a delicate bracelet. His makeup routine was well-practiced:
- Foundation, contouring, highlighter
- Smokey eyes, eyeliner, false eyelashes
- Red lipstick – the statement
Then the crowning glory:
the wig – caramel blonde, shoulder-length, parted on the side, slightly wavy. Lena was there.
3. The Night
She called a taxi. The ride through the city lights was magical. The driver’s eyes kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t say a word. Arriving at the bar, Lena got out, threw her coat over her shoulder, and walked through the doorway.
Inside: music, colorful lights, dancing bodies, dazzling personalities. The atmosphere was vibrant. Lena moved confidently and self-assuredly. She ordered a Cosmopolitan, smiled, and enjoyed glances, compliments, and brief conversations. It was her world.
She danced, laughed, flirted. It was perfect—until it happened.
4. The revelation
“Julian?!”
The name hit her like a thunderbolt. She stopped. Her knees went weak. For a few seconds, all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the music pounding dully against her chest.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned around.
Tobias.
Colleague. Three seats down in the office.
Tracksuit jacket, jeans, beer in hand. And two of his friends – apparently also from the company.
He stared at her. Not like someone who had discovered a secret. But like someone who couldn’t believe what he was seeing . His eyes scanned her outfit: the dress, the wig, her styled legs, the pumps, the makeup.
Then his face. First confusion. Then a crooked grin. Then came what Julian feared:
“What the hell are YOU doing here… like this?!”
His friends turned around. One burst out laughing. The other simply said,
“Dude, isn’t that the trainee from accounting?! No shit?”
Julian—or rather, Lena—suddenly turned pale under his makeup. A flush crept hotly across his face. His throat went dry. The words stuck in his throat.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was too late.
Tobias stepped closer, tilting his head slightly. His tone wasn’t loud, but it was sharp:
“Well… I mean, to each his own, right? But you? In a dress like that? High heels? Makeup? Hey, you’re our quiet nerd—and now you come here in drag or whatever?”
He laughed – not angrily, but loudly enough that people nearby looked at him curiously.
Julian could barely stand upright. It felt as if the air around him was thinning, as if every glance burned, every movement seemed wrong. The self-confidence that usually filled Lena was wiped away. All that remained was a young man in women’s clothing, caught, exposed, and suddenly very alone .
He wanted to say something – to explain himself, to at least bring back some humanity – but Tobias patted him on the shoulder and said dryly:
“Hey, do as you please. But Monday will be exciting.”
Then he turned around and disappeared into the crowd with his friends. The laughter echoed.
Julian stopped. Rooted to the spot. The music was too loud, the air too heavy. Around him, the others continued dancing – people who didn’t know him, who didn’t know him from the office, from the cafeteria, from the filing cabinet.
He left the bar ten minutes later—alone. The echo of his heels on the sidewalk was all that remained of Lena.
5. The way home
In the taxi, he stared out the window, his makeup still flawless, but inside, everything was falling apart. His heart was racing, his thoughts racing:
What would happen on Monday? Who would say what? Would Tobias be quiet? Or…?
He didn’t know.
He knew only one thing: This night hadn’t been a liberating experience.
It was a fall.
A painful one.
One that shook him.
All right – we continue the story on Monday, where a new, completely unexpected reality begins for Julian (or Lena): coercion, conformity, control – but also small moments of personal truth . Here comes the next section:
6. Monday – The new reality
Julian barely slept the night from Sunday to Monday. He replayed the conversation with Tobias over and over again, the others’ faces, the laughter, the pats on the back. He had hoped the weekend would make the awkwardness subside, that silence would settle over the whole thing like snow over dirt.
But he was wrong.
When he entered the office—in his usual plain shirt and slacks—the atmosphere was immediately different. Four of his colleagues stared at him as he walked in. Tobias was already there, grinning broadly, shifting his chair toward Julian, and saying:
“Well, Lena, what’s up? Not as fancy today as Friday night?”
A few others laughed quietly. Julian tried not to let it show.
“I’m here as Julian. And I’m here to work.”
But then Mr. Kranz, the department head, spoke up. He was in his mid-50s, had gray hair, always wore a tie, and his voice was soft—but what he said was anything but neutral.
“Julian, if I’m honest… After what we learned this weekend, the question of transparency. Openness. Authenticity arises.”
“What does this mean?”
Kranz crossed his arms, his voice remaining calm.
“Tobias said that you present yourself publicly as a woman. You obviously value this appearance. Well… we as a company promote diversity. And in your role, in contact with customers, it would only be consistent if you also presented yourself as a woman here. That promotes clarity. And saves us from having to wonder if you have something to hide.”
Julian was speechless.
Was that… a compulsion to disclose? An order?
“You want me to come to work as a woman?”
“I don’t want to , Julian. But it would only be logical, wouldn’t it? After all, authenticity is important. And it would be embarrassing if customers recognized you outside and wondered who was playing what role.”
7. The first day as “Lena” in the office
The next day Julian came back – this time not as Julian.
He wore a simple, knee-length navy blue sheath dress, black ballet flats, and light brown tights. He wore subtle makeup, a straight wig, and thin earrings. No exaggeration, no provocation—just what was expected of him. Or rather, what they forced upon him.
The reactions were mixed.
Tobias chuckled quietly, initially “accidentally” sending him emails with “Ms. Julian” as the salutation.
Mr. Kranz suddenly started calling him “Ms. Meinhardt” at meetings , with demonstrative correctness.
Two colleagues giggled as he walked by. One muttered,
“She doesn’t look so bad, to be honest.”
Some advantages quickly became apparent:
- The receptionist was suddenly nicer.
- When dealing with customers, some people seemed more attentive.
- A parcel delivery man held the door open for him with a “Ladies first” .
But everything had a bitter aftertaste. Julian had no choice. He had to appear that way because his colleagues had decided that this was his role now. He hadn’t chosen his identity; it had been imposed on him – in high heels .
His days consisted of trying to remain professional while feeling like he was being watched. Even his coffee cup was being commented on.
“Oh, with a heart motif today, Mrs. Meinhardt? How fitting.”
8. The inner conflict
At home in the evening, Lena was alone again. She didn’t look bad in the mirror. She even looked… beautiful. But she did n’t feel free .
Not like she used to, when she had chosen to show up herself.
Now it was a costume , a corset of expectations – and those who had previously wanted more “femininity” in the office were now abusing the opportunity to have one that they didn’t take seriously.
Julian wanted to give up. But at the same time, he also felt something else: a hint of strength.
Because the longer he stayed in the office as Lena, the clearer it became: He was surviving. Despite everything.
And maybe – maybe he would manage to make this farce his own story .
9. A corset of expectations
Friday morning came too quickly. Julian—or Lena, as she was now called in the office—sat on the edge of her bed, silently staring at the outfit she had to wear today . It was no longer her decision. For days, the others had been deciding what she should wear.
“If you’re going to work as a woman, then do it properly – sexy, like the real girls, right?” Tobias had said on Wednesday, half grinning, half threatening.
At first, it was just minor remarks: a reference to not enough lipstick, “boring shoes,” “that nun’s skirt.” Then came emails with “styling tips” and links to online shops.
And when Julian wore black trousers to the last team meeting, Mr. Kranz simply offered a dry comment:
“Surely you don’t want us to have to rethink the company’s policies on internal gender visibility, Ms. Meinhardt.”
That wasn’t a suggestion. It was a warning.
And so she stood there, in front of the mirror, with trembling fingers.
The skirt was dark red, slightly shiny, and tight-fitting, reaching just above the top of her thighs . Every step caused it to ride up slightly. Underneath, she wore suspenders , as requested—”for that authentic touch,” as Tobias had said. The delicate black garters were barely concealed as she walked.
The top was a cream-colored, stretchy top with a plunging neckline that clearly highlighted the fake cleavage. Over it was a slim, short jacket that barely covered anything.
She felt like a mannequin – controlled by others, exposed, hurt.
10. In the office – stage of humiliation
As soon as she entered the office, she noticed the glances. They were no longer just curious—they were greedy, scrutinizing, full of unspoken comments. Tobias stood by the coffee machine and called out with mock surprise:
“Wow, Lena! If you go into the weekend like this, you won’t be alone for long.”
Laughter.
Applause from one of the younger ones.
Even Mr. Kranz said as he passed:
“Our customers love friendly faces – and good presentation.”
Throughout the entire morning, she had to bend over, move around, and take notes—all under watchful eyes. With every movement, she was aware: her skirt was slipping. Her suspenders were flashing. Her cleavage was attracting attention. It wasn’t an outfit to feel good about herself—it was a costume for control.
A colleague from marketing – Johanna, from the next corridor – stopped by briefly around noon, stopped next to Lena, and looked at her.
“Is this… voluntary?” she whispered.
Lena swallowed. She wanted to say “yes.” She wanted to show confidence. But her eyes said it all. Johanna slid a business card onto her desk.
“In case you need someone to listen.”
11. Internal fractures
Lena stood in front of the mirror in the restroom. Her makeup was perfect. Her lips were red. Her suspenders were visible.
And her eyes were burning. Not because of the makeup.
She couldn’t go back. Not into normal clothes. Not into a double life. Her colleagues wouldn’t allow it. They had forced the costume on her – and gotten used to it.
What was she now?
A trainee with lipstick?
A projection screen for unspoken fantasies?
A game?
Or… was she still Lena , just trapped in the version that others forced on her?
