Office rehired

Another one from the suggestion box which I took way too long to bring to reality. Suggested by an anonymous user, hope they are happy with it.

Text only version. For the illustrated version, please refer to the Discord channel included with your member benefits.

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“They found someone that quickly?” you mutter to yourself as you walk across the office building. Taking the time to appreciate the new hire sitting right where your buddy Jake would usually be - a considerably, let’s say “gifted” in the body department, brunette doing her make up and scrolling on her phone while on shift with a disconnected monitor. Yet the manager deems her “capable enough” to replace Jake, the same man you’ve known to work his ass off without overtime pay replaced overnight for some bimbo who can barely manage to turn on her computer. Actually it’s mostly been like that lately now that you stop and think about it, ever since the new manager took position, more and more of your coworkers have been moved out of the office and replaced with some surprisingly attractive women “Good morning Luke!” speak of the devil, and he shall visit your cubicle “Have you met Jessica already? She’s the new hire taking up Jake’s position” funny name coincidence, shame you couldn’t read her name tag without risking a harassment claim with the amount of cleavage she had on display “Do you need something John, I’m trying to work here” you ask, hoping to just rid yourself of his presence before you snap at someone higher on the food chain “Well as you’ve probably noticed we have been doing some changes to our staff recently” he says besides you, quite reluctant to take a hint “Yeah, hard not to when I’m practically the only dude left” you don’t bother to look up at him to answer, not until a hand comes down around your shoulder. He squeezes it roughly, eliciting a pained gasp from you and finally forcing you to lock eyes with him “What’s your problem du-” you stop, a deep instinctual fear overtaking your senses as the orbs staring back at you shine with an unnatural glow “My problem, Luke, is that I think you don’t fit with our company standards anymore. No worries though, I can and will fix that” 

It takes your body no time to realize something is off. Every cell within screaming as a foreign influence flows through them, and yet there’s nothing you can do. Your eyes remain glued on him as your spine audibly cracks and shrinks, forcing you to lift your chin in order to keep your eyes locked with his “What are you doing to me…” the question barely comes out as a whisper, your voice far too small to express anything beyond the slurred words of a quivering little thing “Ah” an embarrassingly feminine gasp slips from your lips as your shoulders narrow down to accommodate two frailer upper limbs, too lean to define the long sleeves now reaching past your wrists. You try to protest again yet fail to as the words disappear into soft whimpers and anxious breaths, each one quicker, more superficial than the last as your shirt grows looser on your slimmer body, only held up by the fat slowly accommodating on your chest, molding itself into a perky set of apple sized handfuls “N-nmg” you try to advert your eyes, putting up any semblance of resistance against his influence, trying in vain to stop it as it moves past your waist, popping your hips out of your petite frame and forcing your pants back into place before they fall off your body “Quite a nice figure for your first day here, Lucy. I think I’ll leave you to your work day, see you tomorrow” with that he leaves, leaving your tired, shaken body on a chair now too small for it “Bathroom…” the walk to the bathroom feels eternal, each step reminds you of everything you aren’t anymore - your loose clothes, the subtle sway of your hips, the tiniest of jiggles from your unsupported tits - it sickens you, because deep within yourself, some part of you is not so opposed to whatever that bastard did  “Holy fuck” you mutter in front of the mirror, the stranger in the reflection mimics you flawlessly. Its hands come up to grasp the slightly longer strands of raven hair, they glide across the naturally cute features of her face until they close around the perky set of breasts visibly straining the only defined part of her shirt “Haamph” a single tear and a weak whimper crawls off your lips, because you didn’t expect the soft orbs to be so sensitive, and because they make the cute, petite woman staring back from the mirror feel so unmistakably real.

That same woman slipped out of the office building, anxiously watching over her shoulder for the grin that changed her, only relaxing once she locked herself back in her apartment. You turn and twist on the mattress, hoping that somehow someway you’ll wake up back in the office, doing the same old boring sheets with the same manly face staring back through the monitor “Hah~” no such luck can be found within your dreams, the mind scape conjured by your subconscious haunted by a tall figure overlooking you in a familiar cubicle. His presence feels disturbingly right, comfortingly commanding as he beckons you closer with an outstretched hand like a dog, and all you can do is give a weak nod on your way to rest your chin against his palm, looking up at him with adoring eyes as his fingers trace over your face. Your back naturally arches into him, rubbing the dampening fabric under your skirt into his bulge, any thought unwilling to do this, to remember that you should not be attracted to him melts to nothing against the waning inhibitions of your subconscious self. Lowering yourself on shaky legs to pull the man’s erect member off its cage, teasingly running your lips around its bulbous head, intent on savoring every musky ridge before it plunges into your mouth with a salty explosion of flavor “What the hell!?” you wake up covered in sweat from head to toe, highlighting a much more prominent cleavage in a shiny sheen of liquid “Fuck…” you mutter, hand exploring down to cup around the much larger boobs occupying your torso “Mmm~” and reminding you of the fact that this meat is attached to you, a part of your own body that earns to be touched and responds by pooling a delicious burning heat around your tummy that forces your plump thighs to squeeze together, rubbing their jiggly sweaty skin together unbothered by the lack of anatomy between them.

“N-no way, my clothes…” your increasingly plump body is not the only change brought on by the morning, each and every clothe in your wardrobe has been changed as well. Tailored suits replaced by tight blouses and short skirts, as if the world decided the old you didn’t fit into it anymore, even your IDs have your new face on them. Even with your identity so irreparably changed, something on the back of your mind reminds you of a routine finely engraved in your very being, there’s work in a few hours, work you need to get to “Why did I even do this” you whisper on your way to your cubicle, arms held tight around a bursting blouse since all of your outfits seem to be just a size too small, tailored made to have buttons popped off “I could’ve just skipped, or ran away” you try to rationalize your actions when you so deeply know that they are beyond your own will, deeply controlled by the same man that’s rewritten your life. Yet the same part of you that knows this refuses to care while you strut with an uncomfortable amount of jiggle, embarrassed by the looks you are attracting from the other girls, their gazes captivated by your swaying hips and the plump ass gently bouncing beneath your skirt.

Thankfully, your workday seems to go by with little incident, save for the few button pops or the miss inputs caused by your hefty tits pressing onto the keyboard, at least until the end of the work day, when a familiar figure steps near your station. His smell assaulting your senses before you see him, comforting a part of your mind fined tuned to serve him, to adore his presence “You are shaping up to be quite the beauty Lucy” he whistles from behind, filling your cheeks with a blush as your body reflexively tucks a shoulder-length strand of brown hair behind your ear “I…I need to go, nice seeing you J- Mmmph~” you look away with a pathetic whimper as your body is firmly shoved against the wall, mostly to not look at his face lest you give up your mind for him, and to hide the velvet blush covering your cheek “So cute. Have these grown? I’m quite sure they were not handfuls last time I saw them” he breathes down your neck, teasingly sinking his fingers into the soft swell of your tits, making your body shudder in reluctantly welcomed pleasure “Let me see them, Lucy” you don’t bother to protest, hell, you don’t want to protest. You want him to see them, to feel the cool office air around your cleavage just so he can see your nipples poking through their lace “1... 2…-” he doesn’t finish the countdown, ripping your blouse apart with ease. The buttons held so tightly around your voluptuous upper body pop with eye plucking force, exposing the creamy expanse of your breasts to his hungry eyes “So big, I wonder how much more they have left in them. Somewhere around a G, maybe even bigger than your head. Wouldn’t you like that?” 

You don’t answer, don’t need to. Your growing desire evident with each shake, each unmistakable hungry whimper barely held back by the red lips so tightly shut to not let him see how much you are enjoying his fingers every time they sink into your soft flesh. Toying with your jiggly tits like stress balls, squeezing and rolling them around in his grabby paws “That’s all for today Lucy, I’ll see you tomorrow” his hot welcoming breath makes your skin tingle with barely held back desire. You don’t know how many minutes pass before your eyes finally open, welcoming you to a sadly lone cubicle, the only evidence of his presence are your flushed tits and the damp spot in your lace which you ashamedly cover on your way home “Fuck me, why is he so…mmmph~” home doesn’t offer much of a reprieve, your body instantly doing a mad dash for the bathroom, unashamedly parting your blouse to grab at your busty body “Ooogh~” you can’t help yourself, kneading away at your jugs, caressing every inch of delicious skin while your free hand invades the overly damp folds under your skirt as you imagine his own hands around your body, squeezing everything you have on offer “aah~” moaning with every desperate pump of your fingers as you curse him for not taking you in that cubicle. The part of you that remembers a life different from John’s needy office slut is too far gone, too excited at the lovely idea of his hands around your body.

“I’m just not per-mmph-fect~” you moan through the realization, you are not ready yet, that’s why he left you, why he won’t touch you. Soft flesh bulges against your bra, expanding beneath your prodding fingers as your body recalls everything you liked in a woman, everything you would desire only to please the manager you now deeply worship ‘bigger than your head’ you recall his comment, encouraging your bust to extend past your bra’s limits with needy gropes, stretching your skin to fit the bowling ball sized tits developing under your palms until your shoulders are painfully pulled forward, unable to withstand their sheer weight “It doesn’t matter” you groan, happy with their size, perfectly heavy and soft for a cock, his cock. The increasing fervor of your self-love session makes you lose your balance to your new center of gravity with a wet smack of the now humid musk filled bathroom, only caught by heart-shaped ass cheeks perfect to bounce on his lap “Dumb, pretty” you grunt as your mind recalls the other women around the office who manage to get his attention unlike you, it makes your mind numb, how stupid you have been, how stupid you need to be. Any major thought melting into fine goo as your brain functions cease, only allowing room for the parts that love him, that were born for him.

That next walk to your cubicle is confident, filled with sways that ripple each football sized cheek for any lucky onlooker, accompanied by the jiggles of watermelon sized tits spilling out of a barely buttoned blouse, only worn because bras are not proper office attire, yet “Whoahohoa! Who are you?” you smile at your manager's amazement, plunging a pen deep between your lips and rolling it around with some expert tongue work while you ignore his comment. Not so subtly baring an obscene amount of cleavage, tits perched atop a keyboard of an unturned computer that you didn’t even know how to start “Likey?” you giggle, loving the way his eyes can’t seem to leave your cleavage, the way he’s so dominantly pulling you into his office and the taste of the cock filling your whole throat without any space for air besides the one holding his musk.