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Office Made..

By: rblu0001



This story deals with forced feminization.. I've enjoyed this fetish ever since childhood.. You will find that current technology hasn't quite caught up with the following story, but I'm hoping that will change.. This story is very long and shouldn't be tackled all in one night.. I suggest downloading three or four pages at a time and then reading a few pages of it at bedtime.. I do hope you find it a good read..

*

The M&R Corporation looms above you like a Japanese movie monster. You step out of the taxi and pay the driver with the last few bills you have to your name. This job couldn't have come at a better time. You do a quick double check to make sure you have all of your papers. The interviewer insisted that all forms of ID were required on your first day, including your social security card, birth certificate, passport ... everything. It was also requested that you bring a health department verified drug test and a physical report with a clean bill of health. A deep breath fills your lungs. You feel more organized and together than you've ever been in your life.

The claustrophobic revolving door opens up into the expansive lobby. The morning sun shines through the front window causing the M&R logo to be silhouetted on the floor at your feet. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. A premonition perhaps? If so... then a premonition of what?

At the far end of the lobby is a reception booth. A cute secretary is sitting behind the desk talking on the phone. This place is really bustling. A herd of well-dressed businessmen brush past you and into an elevator alcove. You're beginning to get excited. This job could really be a door opener for you.

You step up to the front desk. 

The secretary looks up at you while talking on the phone and gives the universal hand gesture indicating she'll be right with you. You use the opportunity to ogle her obvious attributes.

She is insanely cute, emphasized even more by the "office tease" outfit she's bursting out of. Her white blouse is tight, stretched across breasts that are either fake or a divine gift. The shirt is buttoned (or rather unbuttoned) low enough to display an ample eyeful of cleavage and a hint of a lacy, red bra. The thread sticking out from where her top button used to be catches your attention as you devour her chest with your eyes.

She must have lost the button. She probably breathed in and shot the thing across the room.

The thought makes you smile. It feels good to smile and it helps to alleviate some of the nervousness that is pulsing through your entire body. You look up from the wonderful view to see that she's smiling back at you. You feel the blush on your face.

"Hi. My name is Nikki. How may I make your day better?" Her voice is musical, the words a sing-song tease. A hundred sexy images flood through your head making your blush grow deeper.

"I'm Dave Phillips. I'm supposed to check in this morning."

"Oh you're the new secre..."

She giggles.

"I mean, data entry worker. Let me get the paperwork."

She stands up and you see her short, black skirt that flares out into a pleated bottom that hits her mid-thigh. When she leans over to get papers out of the filing cabinet, you catch the briefest glimpse of a garter clasp and the smooth, creamy flesh above her stocking.

You feel the stir down below and bite your lip as a tent in your pants pops up. You press up against the desk hoping no one will notice.

What if someone DOES notice? What if she notices?

This is not the way you want your first day at work to be remembered. You try and concentrate on mundane elements of the desk: The marble top, the blinking phone, the M&R stationary stacked for guest use. The embarrassing protrusion begins to diminish and you allow yourself to let out the breath you were holding.

"Here you go, sweetie."

She plops a large stack of papers in front of you and your eyes dart down to look at them, catching sight of her wonderful cleavage again. The embarrassing protrusion returns in full and you bite your lip, pressing tighter to the desk to hide it. 

"Thank you," you stammer. You drag your eyes up to hers and find she's staring at you intently as if trying to tell you something with just her eyes. Has she seen your problem? 

Her eyes dart back and forth across the room and then without warning she leans forward across the desk to get closer to you. Her arms on the desk make her cleavage bulge and you fight back a whimper as your eyes find them again. 

"Read it carefully," she says. Her voice is soft, her breath sweet and warm. Your mouth waters with desire and lust. Does this girl know what she's doing? Does she realize how erotic she makes each and every word?

"I will." The words barely make it out of your throat. All you can focus on is the memory of that glimpse of thigh. The feast of cleavage in front of your face. The smell of her breath, still lingering from her words. You clear your throat and try again.

"Thanks. I always read everything carefully." You smile at her, pleased that you've managed to sound a little more in control. Your brain races trying to figure out how to get over to one of the chairs without her noticing your embarrassing 'problem'. 

"Would you please let them know that I'm here." You smile again. That sounded very confident and self-assured. The disappointment in her eyes catches you by surprise, but at least she turns her attention to the phone. You quickly pick up the clipboard full of papers. Holding them in front of your crotch you hurry to one of the chairs and sit. Your face is on fire. Did anyone notice? You look around and breathe a sigh of relief that no one seems to be interested in you at all. Your eyes find the secretary. She's talking into the phone again, giving you no attention. It's only as she hangs up the phone that she finally gazes over at you and smiles. The smile doesn't help the problem beneath the clipboard. 

You flip to the last page of the contract and find the expected blank line for your signature. With a flourish you put your name on it. You stare at the words on the back page for another two or three minutes, giving the tent in your pants the opportunity to diminish. Nikki smiles as you hand her the contract, but the smile has a trace of sadness in it that seems out of place.

She covers the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand and whispers, "Welcome to the team. I called Miss Payne and told her you were here. She's supposed to meet you at the elevators. I'd hurry if I were you. She REALLY doesn't like to be kept waiting." 

You mumble a thank you to Nikki and turn to go.

"Good luck on your first day, cutie," she says, still in that hushed whisper. You turn to make your way to the elevator when you hear her mutter three more soft words. "You'll need it."

The woman standing in the elevator alcove does not look happy. Her outfit and demeanor are a striking contrast to the secretary you were dealing with only moments before. Her suit screams efficiency. The skirt dropping down onto her thigh, emphasizing the thin heeled designer boots. Her hair is pulled back. Her makeup understated and no nonsense. She is by no means unattractive, but you'd never approach this woman in a social setting for fear of losing some vital body part in the process.

"Who the hell are you?" she barks.

You hold out your hand and she glances down with disdain at the outstretched appendage.

"I'm Dave Phillips. I'm supposed to start work today."

She stares at your hand until you put it down. Her eyes meet yours and you can only look into them for a second before you find yourself looking away uncomfortably.

"Well...you're not what I expected. You hardly look like office girl material." she growls.

You laugh. The sound that comes from you is not a comfortable sound. Even to your own ears it sounds strained and anxious. Your chuckle cuts off when you realize she's not laughing with you. You start to speak but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand and just stares at you. Time passes slowly as she eyeballs you up and down. You get the distinct impression that she's evaluating you. You smile and wait, feeling horribly uncomfortable. You don't know exactly where to put your hands and end up crossing them tightly to your chest in what you know is a defensive stance. This woman makes you nervous. Her eyes devour every inch of you and then a smile touches the corner of her mouth. It is not a pleasant looking smile.

"Where's your contract?" she demands. Before you can answer, she spies it in your hand and rips it away from you.

The woman flips the front page of the contract open and spies your signature on the back page. The humorless smile broadens on her lips and her eyes once again raise up to your face in that evaluating look.

"Looks like everything is in order," she says, tucking the contract under one arm, "Let's get you to where you need to be". She pulls from her belt a long chain that has a key card connected to the end of it. She swipes the card in a slot by the elevator and almost immediately the bell dings and the doors open.

She ushers you inside and then swipes the card again on a similar slot under the floor buttons. She presses the "9" button and the car instantly starts to rocket upward. Apparently the elevators require a key card to work. Excitement causes those stomach butterflies to flutter.

The elevator door opens and Miss Payne steps out. 

"First door on the left," she barks, "I'll be there in a minute. There's something I have to take care of first." She disappears down the hallway.

Out of curiosity, you try pushing the lobby button in the elevator, but nothing happens. It takes a key card to change floors. A keycard you don't have! 

With no other choice, you step out of the elevator and make your way to the first door on the left. 

You start to turn the knob, when a piercing scream erupts from the door across the hall.

You open the door that Miss Payne indicated to begin with and slip inside. The room is dismal, populated only with a table, a few chairs and several rows of lockers. The table is covered in magazines like Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Today's Hairstyles and other such uninteresting items. There is a small, open door in the corner of the room, through which you can see a minuscule restroom. Before you have time to get your bearings, Miss Payne storms in behind you.

"This is the changing room. We have a very strict dress code here and to enforce that we insist that you keep your uniforms here. They are laundered in house and ensure that our employees are always presentable. Understood?"

You nod your head yes.

"Now before we continue, we need to discuss something. You have been hired for a position that we normally only hire pretty girls for. As I'm sure even you can understand, this puts us in an awkward position, since if we fire you we face accusations of discrimination. Yet the job you've been hired for requires you to work closely with the other girls and we don't want any sexual tension in our work place."

She cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

"I can't have ANY of our employees, be it you or the girls, distracted from work by sexual tension." You don't know exactly what to say. It feels like she's mad at you for being male.

"I do believe we have a solution of sorts..."

She holds up a piece of nasty looking metal. You don't know exactly what it is, but the sight of a tiny silver padlock dangling from the corner of it causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

"What is that?" you ask.

"Its a chastity belt. It'll keep you and any...impulses...you might have under control. You'll put it on every morning, and come ask me for the key after work. Well? Come on...I haven't got all day. Drop your pants."

For a moment you stand there unmoving. She's got to be kidding. She can't expect you to let her lock up your penis. Right?

Humiliation burns your cheeks as you remove your shoes, socks and then finally, your pants. You stand up, your hands covering your privates as best they can . She looks at you nonplussed. 

"Those too," she mumbles. It takes you a moment before you realize she means your underwear. You start to protest, but the anger that flashes in her eyes takes what little fight you have left. Every scrap of dignity departs as your undergarment joins the pile of clothing. She tosses you the odd-shaped garment and the color drains out of your face as you begin to slide it on. It fits like a thong with a long sleeve in the front for your equipment. The front of the material has what feels like a hard, metal plate sewn into the lining, while a tiny cloth strap slides between your butt cheeks to connect up to a small clasp on the band around your waist. With the garment in place, Miss Payne struts over and stands behind you. She fiddles with the clasp for a minute, ratcheting the thing back and forth. You feel the garment getting tighter and tighter and the sleeve that you tucked yourself into begins to compress and pull downward and back. You start to protest but the thought of her kneeling on your chest stifles any complaints. You feel your limp organ manipulated more and more until the sleeve is as tight as it could possible be, pointing your penis straight down toward the floor between your legs. It's not quite painful, but it is horribly constricting and you wonder how you got yourself into this position. Finally she stops pulling and you hear a click of what can only be a locking mechanism. Your heart beats double duty as you look down and see the lack of equipment below. The front of the metal plate completely covers the sheath that your penis is held in. At a casual glance it looks like you're wearing thong underwear and that you have absolutely no equipment inside of it. This does not make you feel any better about this situation.

"The second locker from the end is free. Put your clothes in it. There is a robe inside. Put it on and meet me at the elevator." She bursts out the door like a tornado, leaving you staring at the lockers.

On the top of each locker a name is stenciled. You deduce that the name indicates who owns the locker. The name above the locker she told you to use must have been a girl who used to work here. 

"Poor Rita. Miss Payne probably ate her." Your chuckle sounds empty to your own ears. 

You open the locker and see a robe hanging from one of the hooks. You put your clothes inside and pull out the pink satiny garment with a look of trepidation. She can't possibly expect you to wear this thing. It's the thought of standing here mostly naked in a chastity belt that gets you moving. Feeling horribly foolish, you slip the robe on and realize that you might as well take your shirt off as well. With the short sleeves and low cut front, the robe looks even more foolish with a button up shirt and tie underneath it. You hang up your shirt and slip the robe on again. This time you notice the monogrammed name on the chest: Rita. 

"She didn't even get to keep the robe when she left," You tie the robe closed with the tiny pink string. Not that it makes you feel more modest. The almost see-through material only covers you down to the middle of your thigh, and the top is cut down below your breast bone. If all the girls around here wore these kinds of robes, it's no wonder they make everyone wear chastity belts. 

Miss Payne chuckles when she sees you.

"C'mon Rita," she mocks as you step into the elevator. She swipes her card, pushes a button and the elevator rockets upward. "Before we continue your training, its company policy that all employees familiarize themselves with the products and services that M&R provides." The elevator door opens and you find yourself in a tiny room with a large, odd looking table in the center. A pretty redheaded woman appears and suppresses a smirk at the sight of you. You can't help but blush. 

"Hi. I'm Penny," the redheaded woman says. "welcome to the M&R family. You've been scheduled for a spa, massage and grooming session. Lucky for you, we have two attendants available. Which would make you more comfortable sweetie? Male or female?"

There's no way in hell that you're letting a guy see you in this ridiculous outfit, much less rub you down. Besides, every woman you have seen in this building so far has been absolutely stunning. If that trend continues, you might end up with a knock-out rubbing her hands all over you.

You mumble, "Female." You're a little worried that the women in front of you will think you're a pervert, but neither one seems to care. Miss Payne has already stepped back into the elevator and as the doors slide shut she says, "Buzz me when it's done." Then the horrible woman is gone and the pretty redhead is leading you to the table. 

"I'll go get Samantha," she says, "Take your robe off and lie on the table. She'll be in shortly." You wait for the woman to leave the room before stripping the garment off. The chastity belt leaves you feeling awfully exposed and embarrassed. You clamber up onto the table and lie face down with your head pointing through the hole at the head of the table. A pair of feet and shapely legs suddenly appears in your vision. 

"Hi," says a musical voice above you, "welcome to the team. I'm going to be giving you a combination massage/skin treatment session. She continues her spiel about what the massage entails and you take the opportunity to sneak a peek at her. 

The first thing you notice, hell it's hard not to notice, is that she's barely wearing anything. Her breasts are huge, bursting out of a bikini top. Tight blue shorts hug her figure, emphasizing her tiny waist. Then you see her face and wonder if you died and went to heaven. Raven hair tickles her shoulders, her red-ruby lips gleaming against her darker skin. She looks as if she has some sort of Japanese ancestry, although you can't recall having ever seen a Japanese girl with breasts this size before. You feel an instant throb inside the chastity belt and the horrible device constricts around your member keeping it tiny and limp. Maybe it IS a good idea to wear this thing. How embarrassing it would be to have this woman see how excited you got at just her appearance.

You feel a cool liquid pour onto your skin and then her soft, yet decidedly strong hands begin massaging your muscles. The liquid tingles as it gets worked into your pores almost to the point of discomfort, but the talented hands of Samantha distract more than enough. Her hands cover every inch of your body, even some places that cause you more than a little embarrassment. You flinch as her fingers slip into the crevice of your ass and work their way along the edges of your chastity belt. The tiny strap between your cheeks feels like virtually no protection from her and you squirm as her fingers slide behind the material to the deep recesses. What kind of massage is this?

Then her hands disappear and she instructs you to flip over. You're both grateful and horribly humiliated by the chastity belt. You wonder if the girl is wearing one too. Without thinking about it, your eyes drift down to her crotch. You stare at it for a long minute, but can't tell. With a sudden embarrassment, you realize where you're staring and glance up at her face to see if she noticed. If the smirk on her lips doesn't give you your answer, the wink does. You close your eyes quickly, cheeks flaming and heart-rate drumming up-tempo. She rubs down your front and you try with all your might not to dwell on how uncomfortable and self-conscious you are. 

Your thoughts are diverted as you feel her hands caress the edge of your chastity belt again. As she rubs the lotion into your inner thighs, you feel your member betray you. It tries to spring to life, but the tight sleeve around it cuts the blood flow. It tries again, but to no effect except a borderline painful yearning between your legs. You're both tremendously thankful for the thing (after all you don't want a raging erection as this woman does her job) but at the same time horrified at the thought that you can't get hard while wearing it. Her hands begin to deeply massage your thighs and for a third time your penis tries to swell. When it finds that it can't, it spits a tiny spurt of built up semen. Your embarrassment knows no end, even though it appears that Samantha didn't even notice. If she did, she shows no sign and only continues to massage the lotion (now mixed with your own liquid) into your legs. Despite your embarrassment, a dawning horror is filling your mind as well. There was no pleasure from the spurt between your legs, just an obvious release of useless fluid. Worse yet, the spurt seems to only encourage your member to WANT to expand. Your can feel your face glowing as you realize that you are more than a little horny.


Office Made..



After what seems like an eternity, her hands disappear. You've almost gone to sleep, prevented only by the tingling of the lotion that seems to have intensified with every passing second and the nonstop throbbing in your belt. 

"Brace yourself," Samantha says. Before you have a chance to ask what she means, a horrible cold pain surrounds your body. You can't breathe and you gasp in a big mouthful of water. Then it's over and you're left lying on the table in a cold, shivering heap. Between your legs, your equipment shrivels from the shock. It might be your imagination but it almost feels like the chastity belt takes up the slack. You have a sinking suspicion that as your member shrunk, so did the sleeve holding it. You have a bad feeling that it's not going to allow your equipment to go back to the size it was only moments ago.

Samantha begins to pat you dry and you notice that your skin feels oddly sensitive to the soft towel. You open your eyes and sit up. For a moment you can't understand what happened. Your legs are completely hairless. So are your arms. For that matter your whole body from the neck down doesn't have a scrap of hair on it. The lotion must have been some sort of hair removal product. Not only that but you're now aware of the smell emanating from your pores. You still smell like the lotion. Samantha smiles at you, holding out your robe. 

"What kind of lotion was that?" you ask, still stunned at the lack of body hair. She continues to pat you dry as she speaks. Your skin is so sensitive you can feel every fiber of the plush towel.

"It's a patented M&R creation. Scented defoliation lotion. It doesn't smell of chemicals because it's made of all natural botanical ingredients and human pheromones. It has yet to cause an allergic reaction on a single person. It's one of our most popular products. Miss Payne insists that the entire secretarial pool try it out immediately so that they can push the product on the phone."

You start to explain to her that you're not a secretary, but a data entry worker. Before you get a chance, she nudges you with an elbow.

"Wait till you see the reaction you get from the opposite sex. Those pheromones are lethal. Even you will be irresistible."

Before you have a chance to question this statement, a chime sounds indicating that your session is finished. Appearing out of nowhere, Penny returns. You scramble into the satin robe, trying to cover your nakedness. The material caresses your overly sensitive skin, causing you to shiver.

Penny leads you through several intricate hallways, chattering away all the while. You barely hear her. Your smooth and sensitive skin causes you to be aware of your every movement. The satin robe caresses you with a slightly ticklish embrace. The swelling in your chastity belt is more than uncomfortable now, bordering on painful. The pain isn't a deterrent to the throbbing thing between your legs, however. If anything it makes it more eager. You're more than a little upset that they removed all your body hair, but you have to admit it does FEEL really good. At least your trapped member thinks so. You might not be able to change clothes at the gym for a while, but every movement you make is excruciatingly pleasant. 

The chatty redhead ushers you into a small room with a big, nasty-looking chair in the middle. It reminds you of a dentist chair and you're once again filled with a trepidation about being here.

"Have a seat," Penny says, heading for the door. "They'll be with you in a minute." 

She disappears and not knowing what else to do, you sit in the chair. 

Mere seconds later, four people burst into the room. Three of them barely even acknowledge your existence and go straight to the counter behind you and dig through the drawers of grooming supplies. The fourth one stands over you. "Hi. I'm Naomi. Welcome to the team."

"The first thing we need to do is whiten your teeth," her voice is so perky it hurts your head. She goes to the counter, grabs a handful of stuff and returns over talking all the way.

"Do you drink coffee? I'll bet you do. Soda maybe?" She squeezes a tube of green goo into a bit of plastic. "Doesn't matter," she has yet to let you answer, "In a few minutes you're going to have a dazzling white smile. Now listen...this process is patented by this company. It's crucial that you don't move your mouth after your teeth are in this mold. It will halt the whitening process, but also the solution is not a good thing to swallow. We had one girl who was nauseous for the better part of a week, so keep your mouth still. Do you understand?"

You nod your head dumbfounded and before you're fully aware of what's happening, she's positioning the piece of gooey plastic into your mouth. You feel your teeth snap into the groove, and the plastic mold hinges open, locking your jaw as open as it will go. She sticks a tube into your mouth that begins to siphon off the excess saliva.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes," she says as if its no time at all. "Remember, don't move your mouth if you can help it." You watch her disappear out the door. You doubt you could move your mouth anyway. The mold has it locked all the way open and biting down against the horrible gooey plastic mold causes your teeth to feel soft.

A slightly effeminate guy appears in front of you next. He's putting on the second of his clear protective gloves and you wonder with a little trepidation what he's protecting his hands from.

"Well," he says putting his gloved hands on his hips, "You're going to be a bit of work aren't you?" You glare at him, unable to talk because of the dental mold. "Don't worry, sweetie, we'll get you all fixed up." 

He pushes a lever on the chair, which causes you to slide backward. Your head is horizontal to the floor and he looms over you, holding what looks like a shower nozzle. He begins to hose down your hair, letting the water drain down into the floor beneath you. He holds your head as he massages shampoo into your hair. Out of the corner of your vision you can see one of the other women kneeling at your feet. You flinch as she touches your left one and begins attacking your nails with an Emory board. The other woman has rolled a cart of boxes over to your right hand side and is frantically digging through them. 

"So listen sweetie," the guy massaging your head says, "First we need to decide on a color. We've been asked to let you sample our dye process, but I'll be nice this morning and let you have a choice in this. No one would be happy if we let you do anything too outrageous, but I'll let you have a little fun. I know you can't talk with that thing in your mouth, so just blink once for blond, twice for red, three times for chestnut or four for raven."

You blink once, trying to comprehend what he just said to you. He wants to dye your hair? Then you realize you've blinked and answered his question. 

"Blond, huh?" he says chuckling, "Well, you'll be popular. At least once we get you all dolled up. You've really let your hygiene get a little out of control."

You blink rapidly trying to get him to pay attention and stop what he's doing, but he seems oblivious to your discomfort. You try talking, but it causes a nasty fluoride taste in your mouth and you quickly stop trying to make noise. It all sounded like vowels anyway. The guy rinses out your hair and begins to apply a horrible smelling application to it.

"We've got to bleach you," he says, smearing in more horrible liquid. "Don't worry, you won't be a platinum, we'll add some color back in." 

Your eyes water at the bleachy smell.

"We're also going to need to give you some extensions. Your hair is WAY too short!"

The woman working on your toes begins to sand the bottom of your foot. The tickling causes you to squirm. Everyone seems unaware of your discomfort. The final woman has appeared in your line of vision and smiles down at you with a slightly condescending smile. 

"You've really let those eyebrows get out of control, girlfriend," she says with just the slightest suggestion of a neck roll thrown in. You're trying to figure out what she means, when your eyes focus on the tweezers she brandishes only inches above your face. She begins attacking your brows and tears instantly well up in your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Holy crap is it painful! But worst of all is the thought that has rocketed into your brain. She called you 'girlfriend'. 

They think you're a girl!

What are they? Stupid? Just because you're wearing the stupid robe and all your body hair has been washed away, these stupid twits think you're a woman. If only they hadn't put the horrible bleaching thing in your mouth. You want to give these stupid people a piece of your mind.

She seems to work on your left eyebrow forever. Hair after hair after hair painfully ripped away. Behind you, the bleach is being rinsed off. The guy mumbles to himself applying a different, bad smelling liquid which you can only assume is the hair color. There's no sign of the woman who put the teeth whitening gel in your mouth, but the woman at your feet has moved upward and taken hold of your left hand.

"Your nails are horrible," she says in between chews of her gum. "I'm gonna give you some fake ones. We have three kinds...so blink once if you want short, twice for medium and three times for the extra long ones."

You can't believe this is happening. They're making you look like a girl! How did you end up in this situation? You wish you could say something. ANYTHING!

The woman working on your brows, plucks what feels like a dozen hairs in one pull and your eyes pour down tears. You blink them away as best you can, realizing only after you've done it that the woman took that as the answer to her question. 

"Long it is," she laughs. "I had mine this length for a few months, but it's just so hard to do anything. I'm sure you'll get used to them though."

You try to pull your hand away from her, but she has it in a death grip and begins applying a sticky substance to each nail. The woman working on your brows finally stops, takes a deep breath and then plunges back in on the other one. Your whole forehead is aching from the process and your heart skips a beat as you think about how much she must have shaped the first one. It doesn't feel like you have an eyebrow left.

You can certainly feel your hair though. Between the bleach and the dye it feels extra sensitive, not to mention the fact that the guy is pulling on big chunks of it. He must be fastening the attachments to it and you can only hope that they can be undone easily. If nothing else you can have them cut off. Hell after today maybe you'll shave your head. Let's see them mistake you for a girl then.

"What color nails ya' want, honey?" the woman holding your hand asks. "We've got Naughty Red or School Girl Pink. Blink once or twice."

"Can do," she says presses hard on each fingertip as she applies the fake nails. You can't wait till you get these women off of you just so you can rip the damn things back off again. Each one she puts on your hand makes it feel more and more alien.

The other woman finally stops attacking your brows and you feel a huge surge of relief as she sets the tweezers down. Maybe she didn't pluck them as badly as you think she did. She comes back into your line of sight and this time carries something more horrifying than the tweezers.

She begins to rub the makeup all over your face and neck, leaving no spot untouched. You squirm around in protest, but it does no good. She proceeds to apply all manner of powders and liquids to your face. She paints your lips with a glossy color that matches your new nails. She goops black mascara all over your eyelashes. They're so long that everytime you blink it feels like you create a gale of wind. She tints your cheeks with blush and practically pokes your eye out outlining your eye with liner. 

"The good news is," she says so sweetly that you want to punch her in the face, "this makeup is another state of the art M&R. It's waterproof and lasts at least a month...sometimes two. It'll save you hours everyday!"

You look up at her, eyes wide. You're wearing makeup that won't come off for a MONTH?

You have your eyes closed trying to deny the whole horrible situation when you feel the prick and burn in your left ear.

"I'm going to put some semi-permanent studs in your ears, all right sweetie?" she says poking something in your ear, "We'll use some tweezers to remove them once you're ready for bigger earrings, but for now..." you try to shake your head to get her to stop, but she easily pierces your other ear with the skill of a trained professional. "...we don't want these healing back. Plus these little studs are ultra cute."

"Good luck on your first day," she says as she finishes inserting the other studded earring. "The first is always overwhelming. You'll be fine. You'll see." 

She disappears out the door, as the other woman finishes the nails on your right hand. She moves back between your legs and begins painting your toenails with a matching color. You're uncomfortably aware that she has a very good view up your short, pink robe. You close your legs at the knees, trying to limit the view. As your smooth thighs rub together your locked away member tries to show its appreciation, but fails and squirts a small stream of goo into your closed thighs. Just when it seems like you can't get anymore embarrassed, something like this happens. As long as you keep your legs closed though, hopefully the woman won't notice. 

The guy working on your hair finally stops tugging on it, and raises the chair back up to the sitting position. Your new, long locks drape down in front of your face with a wet smack. It comes down to the middle of your chest in deep waves that seem completely natural. 

He begins to attack it with a comb and blow dryer, adding all kinds of sprays and mists to it. It begins to fluff out and tickle the sides of your face and the back of your neck. You wonder again, not for the first time, how the hell you ended up in this position.

The girl finishes your toes almost exactly as the guy steps back and turns the blow dryer off. They both wish you a great first day and then disappear out the door, leaving you alone with nothing more than a horrible tasting mouth piece and a disturbingly feminine feeling appearance.

As if on cue, the first woman comes back in and pulls the dental mold out of your mouth. She hands you a bottle of water and tells you to rinse and spit at least ten times. You're unsure where to spit and it must show on your face.

"Don't worry," she laughs, "just spit right on the floor. Everything drains, and we hose it down between clients." 

You don't need anymore instruction. Your mouth feels horrible and tastes worse. You swish the water around in your mouth and spit. It still tastes terrible. You rinse again.

"I've got another appointment sweetie," she says as you fill your mouth for the third time. "You turned out gorgeous. The Managers are gonna be all over you. Good luck today." Then she's gone and you're all alone. 

After the thirteenth rinse your mouth feels better, but your spirits sink. You've just had a complete feminine make-over. They thought you were a girl when you walked in so you can only imagine what you look like now! You feel a desperate need to find a mirror and see what they've done to you. More importantly, you want to find a way downstairs to get your clothes and get the hell out of this crazy place!

You jump out of the chair, wincing at how delicate and sensitive your feet are. The woman sanded off all of your calluses and the wet tile floor causes them to tingle as if they were dipped in seltzer water. You're uncomfortably aware of the goo that is slowly dripping down your thigh. Your penis throbs again in its restraint and you feel a desperate need for relief. Despite the indignities that have been thrust upon you, you're beyond horny. The fact that there is nothing you can do about it only seems to make it more powerful. Another small squirt of goo gushes against your smooth thighs as they rub together. You've got to get the key to this horrible belt and then get out of here! But first, you've got to find a mirror and do damage control. You look around. 

There are no mirrors. 

You peer out the door and when you realize the hallway is empty, you make a break for it, rushing toward the elevators. There was a mirror on the wall in the elevator alcove. You just hope and pray no one sees you. Your new hair swishes across your face as you run and you curse under your breath at how ticklish it is.

You turn the corner and see the alcove in the distance. In seconds the end of the corridor rushes up to meet you and you find yourself face to face with a beautiful woman.

YOU!

This can't be possible.

The woman staring out at you from the ornate wall hanging can't be you.

And yet every move you make is mimicked by the beautiful reflection. Pain rips through your groin as your chastity belt counteracts your natural impulse. It spits in protest adding to the growing stream of liquid creeping down your thigh. The vision in front of you looks like something out of a pinup magazine. The woman's eyes dart back and forth as she seems to study you. 

Long, flowing blonde locks. Shiny pink lips. Pale, creamy skin. Long perfect fingernails. There's even a faint trace of a blush on her cheeks. You can't quite tell if its makeup or real. The pink satin robe only emphasizes the image. Draped around your skinny frame, you look like a Playboy model right before the big reveal. 

How the hell did they do this to you? You're a guy, for chrissake. How could they turn you into this luscious image so easily. 

The girl in front of you tilts her head and looks back at you quizzically. One of delicately manicured hands goes up to touch the zirconium stud in her ear. You can't help it. A tiny grin appears on your face, echoing on hers. She has dazzling white teeth, a smile that would melt the polar ice caps. A naughty image of what you'd like to do to this woman passes through your mind, your dick throbs in its confines and suddenly terror fills you. They've turned you into every man's wet dream and you're standing alone in a hallway, with nothing more than the thin, tiny robe covering your body.

"Well...you turned out well," a sardonic voice says behind you. You spin around already knowing who it is.

Miss Payne chuckles at the expression on your face.

"You're looking more like M&R material all ready." Before you can think of running, she approaches. She looms over you, a staggeringly powerful, dark-haired office Amazon. One of her hands goes to your cheek in what would be affection coming from anyone else. For her, the gesture oozes condescension. "You're quite the pretty little thing. Love that blonde hair. And those nails. They don't normally make them that long. You must have asked them for those, didn't you?"

You glare at her, fury burning out of your eyes. SHE did this to you. She knew you were a guy and intentionally let everyone think you were a woman so they would make you look this way. You can barely contain your rage.

"You did this!" you growl. "You made them turn me into a girl!"

"Didn't take much did it?" she chuckles, grabbing your cheeks and turning your head so she can examine your makeup. You grimace as she inspects you like a piece of meat. "Besides...you'll fit in much better with the other secretaries this way."

You jerk your head away from her grasp.

"You are an ungrateful, little bitch, you know that?" she spits at you. "We've just allowed you to try out a seven hundred dollar spa session and you're upset because we've made you a little more presentable."

"You've made me look like a joke!" you spit back.




Office Made..



"You didn't need any help from us!" She grabs your arm and begins dragging you back toward the elevator. You resist, pulling back and digging your heels in until she begins to grind the bones of your wrist so hard that you cry out.

She swipes her card and turns to you while the two of you wait for the elevator to arrive.

"A word of advice, Rita. You're on my bad list. You'd better watch your P's and Q's or I'm going to make your life here a living hell!"

"Excuse me Ma'am," you stammer, "but that's not my name..."

She moves like a lightning bolt, slamming you hard against the elevator doors. Her face hovers only inches from yours, her eyes burning with fury.

"First of all," she says, her voice little more than a whisper, "don't EVER correct me!"

You whimper as she squeezes your arms so hard that you seriously doubt you'll be able to make a fist for the rest of the day.

"And second of all..." her mouth goes right up to your ear, the words so soft that you can barely hear them. "...what is the name on your robe..."

She squeezes again and pain shoots through your arms.

She twists your arm so hard that you sob out the answer.

"Rita," you whimper.

"And what is the name on your locker?" she asks in that same barely audible voice. Her hand slides under the robe against the bare skin. Like a snake it pinches your ass so hard that it makes you jump.

"...Rita..." you say softly. 

"You're not quite as dumb as you look," she snarls. You try to struggle out of the woman's grip, but she has you pinned. The woman is strong and seems to be holding you without exerting any effort at all. 

"So your name is..." She squeezes your arm even harder than you thought possible. Yet still you hold back. You clench your teeth against the pain. She growls at your stubbornness and slams you against the elevator door. Your head hits it and the room starts to spin. She slams you again and the world takes on a surreal quality. "Say your name bitch..." she growls in your ear.

"...Rita..." you mutter reluctantly.

"That's a good girl," Miss Payne says, her evil grin wrapping all the way around her head.

She releases the death grip on your arm but keeps you pinned against the elevator door. You feel her hand on the backside of your upper thigh and the tenderness of it against your smooth skin causes goose flesh to break out on your skin. What is she doing?

The hand creeps upward tracing the curve of your rear. Your tiny, shrunken cock tries to respond and the unrelenting belt stops it. Even as it happens you can't believe how easily your body has betrayed you. This horrible woman has turned you on with a single caress of her hand. You feel her touch snake down between your legs.

"You like this, don't you, Rita. You're all wet." Your body betrays you again by spurting another unsatisfying burst down onto her fingers.

She presses her body up against yours from behind, her hand tracing the curve of your butt, spreading the sticky liquid on your skin. Her lips practically touch your ear. 

"Tell me your name again," she whispers seductively, her voice causing the hairs on your neck to stand up. She takes your ear lobe between her lips and bites. Pain and pleasure fill your senses.

"Rita ," you mumble unable to stop the pleasure radiating through your body from her gentle caress. It's not just your trapped penis that's throbbing now...it's your whole body.

"A stupid name, fit for a stupid girl," she mutters as she releases her death grip on you. The elevator doors slide open and you stagger through them. She strides in and swipes her card as you try to wedge yourself as far into the corner of the car as possible. The doors shut with a scary finality and the elevator begins to descend.

You follow Miss Payne as she leads you back down the hallway to the break room. The door shuts and you breathe a sigh of relief. Finally! You can change out of this despicable, pink robe and back into your normal clothes. Maybe now you can figure out a way to undo the atrocities this woman has done to you.

You hurry over to the locker. Your long, blonde hair swishes into your face and tickles the back of your neck. The smooth skin of your thighs tingles as your legs brush against each other. Every move you make seems to emphasize the changes forced upon you.

You fumble with the latch on the locker. The horrible, pink nails prevent you from doing the simplest of tasks. Even opening your locker takes the utmost concentration and dexterity.

Finally you wiggle it open.

Your clothes aren't there. 

You look up at the name to double check that you've opened the right one. The locker reads: Rita.

Your clothes are gone. In their place sits a shrink-wrapped package. Did they dry clean your clothes? You glance back at Miss Payne. She seems completely oblivious to you, all of her attention focused on one of her short-cropped nails. Without looking up she mutters, "Put your clothes on, girl. I don't have all day!"

A bad feeling settles into the pit of your stomach as you open the plastic package in your locker. You suspect that you already know what this is.

Your suspicions are confirmed. This bitch expects you to wear the same outfit that the secretary downstairs has on!

You stare down at the disturbing garments that you're expected to wear. Your brain seems to have gone into hiding, not wanting anything to do with your current situation.

Miss Payne rolls her eyes theatrically.

"Jesus," she quips, "It's like you've never gotten dressed before." 

She walks over to you and snatches the package out of your hands. 

"Take your robe off."

Sheepishly, you slip the robe off your shoulders and hang it on the hook in your locker. You honestly can't remember having been more embarrassed than this. Your skin glows from the lotion of the massage, emphasized by the lack of even a single hair. You cover your asexual crotch with your hands as if you had any modesty left.

She pulls out the first item in the bag and holds it up. You shiver.

"Some girls don't need this," she says to you, wrapping the waist cincher around your middle and fastening it in the back, "but you need the extra shaping."

You feel the breath get forcibly pushed out of you as she yanks hard at the cords behind your back. She pulls again and you almost topple over, stopping yourself only by grabbing onto the table. Again she pulls and you drag the table a few inches trying to not fall over.

You can't breathe.

She yanks one more time and you get light headed. You try to take a deep breath and fail. Try again and start to panic. Then a tiny gasp of air gets through. Then another. Your heart-rate begins to calm as you realize that you can breathe if you take small, gaspy breaths. Standing up straight seems to help, but even then you don't know how she expects you to wear this horrible garment. You still feel light headed and your midsection aches at the constriction. You look down at the horrible thing and see that it's pulled your waist in dramatically. It makes you look very curvy, emphasizing your rounded 'girlish' hips.

"That'll have to do for now," she says, "I expect to take another inch out next week, so watch your diet."

You try to gasp an objection, but Miss Payne ignores your gasping and digs out the next item in the bag. You shake your head in horror. This can't be happening.

She pushes your arms through the straps and fastens it in back. The lacy red bra adheres to your chest as if it has suction cups in the front.

"This is another M & R patent," she says turning you around to face her. She sticks a finger between your skin and the center of the bra. She fiddles around in there for a moment and you feel a sudden horrible suction on your chest. 

"This thing is made for girls like you, Rita."

The cups seem to be inflating. The suction is pushing your chest muscles together into a tiny line of cleavage, even as the expanding cups continue to grow. You stare up at Miss Payne in horror. She's giving you breasts!

"So what do you think?" she asks you, smirking her horrible smirk, "That's about an A cup. Want bigger ones?"

You shake your head frantically. She laughs.

"The guys all like 'em big, Rita. But I'll let you find that out on your own."

You stare down at the tiny, but undisguisable breasts jutting off of your chest. Your chest is bound so tightly that the cleavage line down the center of your chest looks completely natural.

You shake your head miserably, unable to stop seeing the tiny mounds that peek out of the top of the garment. Unable to help yourself, your hands find the new objects that jut out on your chest. They even feel real.

"Expandable gel," the horrible woman says in response to your unasked question, "Not much we can do with those tiny titties of yours, but maybe if you're a good girl, M & R will buy you a bigger, REAL pair."

You gaze at her in disbelief. Oh GOD! You stand up straight, which helps to alleviate some of the weight your chest now carries. Your new A-cup breasts jut out in front of you. Worse the satiny material has caused your nipples to harden. They poke through the front fabric of the material as if trying to cut through it.

"You are gonna be REAL popular, Rita." She chuckles and you feel your blood run cold.

You're still boggling over your new chest as she pulls out a lacy, black garter belt and wraps it around your waist. It sits atop your cinched in waist as if it was meant to go there. The straps dangle against your thighs, with a slightly pleasant, tickly sensation. Your encased manhood offers another throb and squirt of encouragement. You feel an increasingly desperate need to go relieve yourself. How can you be this wet between your legs and not be getting any pleasure from the emission? You've got to get this belt off!

Miss Payne is pulling little half-egg shaped containers out of the plastic bag and setting them on the table.

"I'll let you choose your stockings. After all, that's a very personal decision for a girl." You can hear the smugness in her voice. She's enjoying this. She's getting off on turning you into a prettier and prettier woman. You dread where this is going. But there doesn't seem to be much alternative.

You look at the eggs, trying to figure out which kind of stockings will be the least offensive.

You open the egg marked 'sheer' and pull out the silky material.

"There are punishments for torn stockings, bitch," Miss Payne growls behind you, "So I'd be careful if I were you. Unless you WANT to be punished." This causes a shiver up your spine. You look again at the thin material and think that you possibly made a mistake. You're not sure you can put these on, especially with the long, pink nails. Beside you, Miss Payne clears her throat. You quickly plop down on a chair and begin to work a stocking up your leg.

Miss Payne gives you an exasperated look.

"Bunch them up and then roll them up your legs, you twit," she growls. You start over trying to do what she said and manage to get the silky thing onto your leg. It takes you a few seconds to figure out how to connect the garter straps, but finally you get the top of stockings secured with the clasp. The second one goes on quicker.

You stand up, proud of yourself for not having ripped the material. Miss Payne does not seem impressed. She just digs through the bag for whatever degrading article of clothing that is next. You take the opportunity to look down at your legs.

The stockings turn your smooth legs into an amazingly sexy feature. The material clings to you like a second skin, giving your legs a longer, more sleek look. The straps on the garter belt are pulled tight against your thighs, emphasizing the femininity that wraps your body.

Then you see the panties that your tormenter has withdrawn from the bag and you silently wish for death. 

"What color do you want, Rita?" she asks, holding each one up for you to see, "Slutty RED, hot PINK, or BLACK satin?" She grins at you maliciously as you stare at the thin fragments of fabric in her hands.

You slide the lacy, pink panties up your legs, shivering as the soft material caresses the sheer stockings. They're not even fully on, before another pleasure less burst of liquid escapes the chastity belt. The underwear catches the release and you feel the icky goo soak into the fabric and press against your legs. At least its not going to drip down your thigh now.

The panties have ruffles around the leg holes, which tickle your inner thighs with every move you make. The rest of the garment is streamlined, hugging your new curves like a layer of skin. It covers the infernal chastity belt completely, the back clinging to the crack of your ass as if it were holding on for dear life.

Miss Payne stands back and looks at you, as if she's appraising a piece of meat.

"You are a knockout, Rita," she says, "Guys are gonna kill to get into your panties."

You bow your head in shame. You have a bad feeling that she's right. Even without a mirror, you can tell that your figure is to die for.

"Luckily you're wearing your panties outside of the garter belt. That way they're...easily removable."

You shiver. The idea of wearing frilly underwear that's easy to take off, doesn't seem to be a reassuring thought right at this moment.

She strides over to you and you shrink away from her, but the room is small that there's really no where to go. She presses you up against the locker. Her body is so tight against you that you can feel the warmth of her skin through her suit.

"You are gonna be one hot bitch," she says, her face only inches from yours. One of her hands touches your right breast and then slowly travels down your body until its between your legs. Her mouth goes to the side of your face and her lips press against your skin. "You like this, don't you?" she whispers into your ear. You shake your head, "Your panties say differently, Rita. You're all wet."

Her middle finger begins to rub your crotch through the silky material. Her hand slides further between your legs, her fingers finding the back of the belt. They make tight little circles on the sensitive spot between where your cock is now confined and where your ass begins. Your whole body tingles. You arch your back, unable to help yourself. Your new breasts press against hers.

Her finger moves faster between your legs and you're both horrified and relieved to feel a sexual climax nearing. Your thighs clamp around her hand, begging her without words to keep going.

"Now tell me the truth," she whispers, letting her tongue tickle your ear, "Do you like this?"

"Yes..." you moan softly. You're so close to orgasm that you can feel it in every molecule of your body.

"You like being dressed like this?" she asks. Her other hand has moved around behind you and is squeezing your left ass cheek, the nails digging almost painfully into your flesh. You barely notice. The hand between your legs has your full attention. The word escapes your lips without a single thought.

"Yes..."

"You like what I'm doing to you" she whispers. Again you answer, if only to keep her finger moving.

"Yes..."

"You like being a girl, don't you?"

The orgasm builds to a peak and you moan the word loudly.

"YES!"

Then liquid spurts out onto her finger and into your frilly pink panties. There is no pleasure, no sense of satisfaction. Only a sticky gooey mess. If anything, you're hornier now than you were only a minute ago. Her hand trails out from between your legs with a slimy hairline stream still connected to it. You want to scream with frustration. You're hornier than ever. That horrible chastity belt denied you any pleasure. In fact, the orgasm only seemed to intensify your wantonness. You look at Miss Payne with pleading eyes.

"Please..." you whimper "Please take the belt off..."

She puts a finger to your lips, silencing your begging. She traces your painted lips with the finger and you realize she's rubbing your own cum on your mouth. You pull your head away and she laughs.

"You really are a slut, aren't you?" She pushes away from you and heads back to the table and the dreaded uniform bag. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, but you can still taste the residual saltiness of your own juices on your lips.

"If you're a good girl, I might let you out of that belt after lunch," she says pulling a white shirt out of the bag and handing it to you, "If you're a bad girl, you can wear the thing for a week for all I care."

The true power this woman has over you suddenly drops into your head like a ton of bricks. She has the key to your penis. She can keep you in this thing for as long as she wants to and there isn't anything you can do about it. You feel like crying.

You slip the blouse on and fumble with the buttons. They're on the wrong side and the nasty long fingernails on your hands keep getting in the way. Miss Payne watches your struggle with amusement. The shirt feels too tight, hugging your tiny waist and your new bosom. The sleeves are too short, showing off your smooth arms. You're even further dismayed to see the outline of the red bra visible through the thin white material.

"Now fair warning, Rita," Miss Payne says as you finish the buttons, "Your supervisor in the secretarial pool has the right to remove one button from your blouse for every major mistake that you make. Most of you sluts love to show off their tits, but if you want to remain modest...you'd better do what you're told."

She has to be joking? The managers can cut buttons off of your shirt? Your mind flashes back to Nikki, from downstairs. Your first thought had been that she was an exhibitionist. Dear God! That could be you!

"If you run out of buttons, you're required to buy a new blouse. These things cost what you make in a day, so if you're smart you'll keep your mouth shut unless a manager finds a reason for you to open it."

You cringe at the crude innuendo of that statement.

You're so wrapped up in thought that the skirt almost hits you in the face. You catch it out of the air at the last minute and worm your way into it. It barely fits over your hips, but zips easily up your cinched waist. The pleated bottom twirls around your stocking-covered legs, caressing them with your every breath.

Miss Payne instructs you to tuck the blouse in and you do so quickly. The threat of button removal and the promise of getting out of the horrible chastity belt has you as meek as a mouse. The blouse presses ever tighter against your breasts now that its tucked in. You look down at them and see the writing that hugs the curve of your left chest.

"Rita: How may I make your day better?"

You have a feeling that just looking like you do could make some guys have a better day. The thought frightens you almost as much as the objects Miss Payne holds in her hands.

She's got to be kidding! How does she expect you to walk in those things?

You sit back down and cram your feet into the constricting, black footwear, your toes screaming as they compress into the pointed tip. The heel looks to be about two inches high, but is so slender you wonder how you're going to stand up. The straps around your ankle end in a small clasp that you fiddle with until you finally get them strapped on. You marvel at how small they make your feet look. Then again with how uncomfortable they are, you're not THAT surprised. They feel two sizes too small.

"Stand up," Miss Payne barks and you wobble to your feet. She kneels in front of you and before you realize what she's up to, she fastens a tiny silver padlock to the clasp on your right ankle. She grabs your right foot before you can pull it away and puts a similar lock on that one. She stands up and looks at you approvingly.

"Sluts like you need to keep your fuck-me shoes on at all times," she cackles, "After you learn to walk in these, we'll get you a higher heel. Maybe then you can look me in the eye." She laughs again and you realize you're still shorter than her even in the heels. Your knees feel weak and you take a tentative step and almost fall over. How are you going to walk anywhere in these? And when is she going to let you take them off?




Office Made..



While you wobble around trying to get your 'sea legs', Miss Payne pulls a final item out of the bag. She fastens the tiny lace collar with the heart pendant around your neck. It constricts around your neck just short of painfully and when you clear your throat it comes out higher and softer than your regular voice. You look at Miss Payne miserably.

"There," she says, pressing a finger to the tiny heart on your neck, "That ought to hide the last remnant of maleness from everybody. And this..." she uses her fingernail to click a small button on the heart. The thing begins to vibrate ever so slightly against your neck. "That will help you sound just a little more breathless. Congratulations, Rita, you make one hell of a fine looking secretary."

This does not make you feel good. You shift uncomfortably from one leg to another in the constricting shoes, feeling the panty ruffles tickle your thighs. You wish you could go back in time and stop yourself from ever coming to this hellish place.

"Ready to start your training, Rita?" She uses that horrible name again and you realize that you're starting to automatically respond it.

"If you need to go to the bathroom, go now!" she commands, picking up the phone off the wall and punching in a number.

As you carefully wobble your way to the bathroom, you realize that you actually DO have to go. But the main reason for the trip to the water closet is so you can catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Despite the horror of your situation, you're morbidly curious about what you look like. Each step you take causes your clothing and hair to swish and rub against your sensitive skin, but its impossible to tell how you actually look without a mirror.

As the door closes to the bathroom, conditioning kicks in and you have to rush to the stall. There's a moment of panic as you reach for your dick underneath your skirt and realize that it isn't there. Then you remember the chastity belt. How are you supposed to pee? You feel down in between your legs and find the tiny hole Miss Payne had rubbed between your legs. So you CAN pee, but you have to sit down to do it. With a fresh wash of embarrassment, you pull the tight pink panties down to your ankles and sit on the toilet, letting the liquid flow out of your crotch in a manner consistent with the opposite sex.

You wonder briefly about the other type of bathroom function. With very little effort, you manage to pull the strap running up your ass crack to one side. It looks like this belt was designed to let you have full bathroom capabilities. At least that's something. You can feel the residual moisture inside the belt and dab at it with toilet paper mortified at having to wipe yourself like a girl. You take the opportunity to mop your panties out as well, getting the soaking fabric as dry as possible.

You step out of the stall and see the stunning woman in the mirror above the sink. For a moment you think this woman is someone who has come in to pee. Then the realization strikes. Its YOU!

Part of you was afraid that the image in the mirror would reflect a man dressed up in women's clothing. What you see is almost worse. Looking back at you is a sexy woman dressed in one of the most provocative outfits imaginable. Your member strains against the unyielding chastity belt at the sight of this goddess. Your mind starts running through perverse acts of what you want to do to this woman, while at the same time cringing at the thought of having those things done to YOU!

Your long, slender legs seem endless in the sheer stockings, before they tuck their way into the swishy black skirt. You turn slightly and the hemline swirls up to reveal the garter straps and the barest glimpse of exposed thigh. There's another sharp pain inside the belt as the woman in the mirror puts on this show for you.

Your waist is impossibly tapered and, looking at your figure, you're not surprised at all that you can barely breathe. Small, perfectly formed orbs strain at the thin material of your shirt as if they want release from the cotton restraints. The bra holding them back doesn't even attempt to hide behind the white material covering it.

Another throb inside the belt.

The writing on your chest causes the pretty girl in the mirror to blush as she reads it. This woman looks like she has hundreds of tricks to make someone's day better.

The girl strikes another pose and you're amazed as the vision in front of you mimics your every action. You feel the soft caress of the sheer stockings as your legs move against each other. Without warning, a tiny dribble of liquid squirts into your panties. You don't think you've ever been hornier in your life. The desperate look of need in the face of the blonde haired girl in the mirror only makes your horniness worse. The girl looks like she's in heat. A horny slut willing to do anything for sex. Her face is flushed. Her pupils dilated. This is a desperate woman. You shiver as gooseflesh pimples your flesh. Any guy that sees you is going to be all over you. Despite your growing horror, your member shoots another worthless spurt.

You go back to the stall and wipe the creamy liquid out of the pink panties again. A huge wash of dismay sweeps over you. Seeing yourself dressed like this has gotten you incredibly turned on, despite the shame and humiliation you feel of being so easily made up to look like a woman. You want, or rather you NEED desperately, to relieve yourself...to get rid of this sexual tension. The last thing you want people to think is that you ENJOY looking like this. You try to work a finger up inside of the chastity belt, but the thing keeps your probing feminine finger at bay. You try rubbing yourself through it. You're rewarded with a slight tingling and another squirt of liquid that comes out with absolutely no pleasure. You feel like screaming in frustration. 

You stand up and pull the panties back into place, the tickling frills of the lace on your thighs causing you to instantly squirt another shot into them. Still no pleasure. No release. You stamp your foot allowing yourself a tiny tantrum at the uncomfort of this situation. Every move you make seems to cause your trapped member to want to spit in protest and there doesn't seem to be anything you can do about it. How are you going to get through the day when everything you do causes your panties to get damper and damper. For a moment the idea crosses your mind to ask Miss Payne to undo your belt so you can relieve yourself. Then the notion of explaining why you need to remove the belt to her flashes through your head and you instantly abandon the idea. You definitely don't want her thinking you like looking like this.

"What's going on in there?" the horrible woman hollers in to you, "Hurry up. I don't have all day!"

"C'mon," Miss Payne says, practically pushing you out the door into the hallway. You shudder with fear as it dawns on you that other people are going to see you now. And not just women. Men are going to see you dressed like a teenage boy's wet dream. Your legs get even more wobbly then they were.

"Move your ass back and forth more," she mutters behind you, "It helps with the balance." Desperate to not fall on your ass, you move it back and forth as she suggested. It helps a little, even as it emphasizes the material riding up your ass cheeks. As you move you have to move your hands differently as you walk in order to keep your balance. You feel like a caricature of a woman. A cartoon sex drawing like Jessica Rabbit or Betty Boop.

Miss Payne leads you down to hall to the elevator. With every step you take, the lacy panties tickle your crotch. The wetness down there only further humiliates you, yet as the skirt swishes across your silky legs they grow damper still. You're finding it really hard to focus on anything other than the erotic stimulation this outfit is inflicting on you.

She swipes her card and the elevator arrives promptly. You step inside, but Miss Payne doesn't. She just leans in, swipes her card and presses the 12 button. Then she leans back out of the elevator. 

"Enjoy your training, Rita," she says as the elevator doors begin to slide shut, "I expect an obedient little girl after lunch."

Then she's gone and you're left alone in an elevator that is rocketing upward.

It doesn't get to twelve before it stops.

On the tenth floor the car slows down and you feel like you're about to explode from nervous energy. Your legs are shaking and it's only partly because of the heels.

The woman who steps into the elevator isn't dressed anything like you. She wears a smart looking suit, with a skirt that goes down to her calves. You wish, for a brief moment, that you could have had an outfit like hers instead of the tarty thing you're in now. Then you decide that if you're going to be wishing, you might as well wish not to be dressed like a woman at all.

The woman gets into the elevator and gives you the once over while she fishes for a keycard in her bag. You stand awkwardly, not exactly sure what to do with your hands. She chuckles under her breath at your obvious discomfort.

"First day, huh?" she says still rooting in her purse. You mumble assent, aware that your voice seems even higher due to the blasted vibrating collar. The woman doesn't seem to notice anything unusual about you at all.

"Don't worry, cutie," she says as she finds the elusive plastic card, "With a body like yours, you got nothing to worry about around here."

She swipes the card and the doors begin to slide shut. She sidles up next to you, invading your personal space. You step away, but in the closed elevator there's no where to go.

She runs her fingers through your hair, inspecting it.

"Love that blonde hair," she mutters and then yanks it so your head is pulled side ways. You cry out in pain, but she ignores you, continuing her examination as if you were a car she was thinking of renting.

With the hand not holding your hair, she grabs your face and puckers your mouth. She peers in at your teeth, nodding with approval.

"Good teeth, nice eyes..."

She grabs your left breast. 

"Small up top, but that's easily fixable." She spins you around effortlessly. You're so taken off guard, you don't even have time to resist. You struggle to maintain your balance even as her hand grabs your ass. You jump in surprise and she laughs.

"And you're obviously still fresh. The girls around here get jaded so quick...And that blonde hair...you'd be surprised how many clients ask for that..."

What the hell is she talking about? And why is she treating you like a piece of meat?

The elevator dings and still she keeps you pressed to the wall of the car, examining your ass and legs with a keen eye.

"All right, Rita," she says reading the name off of your breast, "You tell your supervisor that Miss Worthington is interested. Got it?" You nod, grateful that she's moved away from you a little. You don't know what that was all about, but you're ready to be off this elevator. You smile a polite smile at the woman, and then hurry for the door, wiggling your butt back and forth as you go to keep your balance. The door shuts behind you and you breathe a sigh of relief. At least until you see the girl standing in front of you.

She's dressed almost identically to the outfit you're in. Her pale skin shimmers next to her white shirt. Her hair is blonde and razor-straight, tucked behind her ear in a way that emphasizes her cuteness. She looks at you and smirks at the bewildered look on your face. You feel a wave of dislike wash over you towards this girl, even as your eyes continue to take in her beauty.

"Are you Rita?" she asks, her voice small and almost non-existent.

"Yeah, I'm Rita," you say. It's scary how easily that name trips off your tongue now. You grind your teeth. You can't wait to get out of this place. Once again it occurs to you, that your voice is way too high and girlie. It shouldn't have been this easy for them to turn you into this. You're a guy, for chrissake.

"Follow me," the girl in front of you says. Her voice is barely audible and she hurries down the hallway not looking back to see if you're coming. You race after her, almost twisting your ankle in the blasted shoes, trying to keep up. She gets to the destination door, puts her hand on the knob, but doesn't open it until you get there.

"Good luck, Rita," she says softly. You look at the name stenciled on her shirt.

"Thanks, Becky," you say. You wonder for a second if that's HER real name. Then the door opens and you follow her inside.

The room is small and instantly makes you feel claustrophobic. There are five tiny desks with chairs, each one with an antique looking manual typewriter on top of it. Becky instantly rushes toward the one on the end and begins typing frantically as if her life depended on it. Your eyes drift toward the front of the room and you see a man in a suit, sitting behind his desk looking at you with intense blue eyes. It is not a pleasant look. You shiver at the idea of being dressed this way in front of a man like this. You feel naked. Worse than naked.

"Well?" he growls at you. You jump at his voice. "Choose a desk and sit down, girl...We're not paying you to stand there idle." You're beginning to understand Becky's nervousness. You've been in the room maybe three seconds and just the presence of this man has you on edge.

You dash to a desk and sit down. The chair is horribly uncomfortable. It's too low and the seat feels like it has a ridge down the center that pushes your underwear further into your ass. Sitting here is like giving yourself a perpetual wedgie. Worse is the pebbled texture of the seat which seems to cling to your skirt pulling it up as you sit. You yank the garment back down, embarrassed by the glimpse of thigh that you just showed the man in the suit. The gleam in his eye says he not only noticed, but approved of the indecency.

He walks over beside you and stands a little too close. You turn to look at him and realize that the low seat puts you eye level with his crotch. You quickly turn back away, face flushed.

"So you're Rita," he says looming beside you, "Miss Payne says you're gonna be a pain in the ass. You better hope she's misjudged you." He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans down so his face is beside yours. You cringe away from his touch. "Let me tell you something, Rita. Don't mess with me. I have a very short temper and if you cause me any grief you're gonna have a lot bigger problem than a few buttons missing on your shirt. Isn't that right, Becky?"

From across the room, Becky says quickly and clearly, "Yes, Mr. Kail." He turns back to you.

"Becky's a lazy slut, but she knows when to speak and when to keep her trap shut! Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Rita?"

"Yes, Mr. Kail," you say in a perfect imitation of Becky. He smiles, one of his hands caressing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. You try not to flinch away from the touch, but you can't help it. His thumb traces your lower lip before the hand moves away. You shudder. Just his touch has made you feel violated somehow.

"Good girl," he says as if you were an obedient dog, "All right. Put a sheet of paper in your machine and type the following paragraph."

You scramble with the paper next to the typewriter. The nails that jut out from the end of your fingers keep you from being able to grab one of the sheets and he begins talking before you even have the machine ready. You curse internally, wondering why a high tech company like this isn't using word processors. Maybe you'll get to use one of those after you finish your training.

"Hurry up girl. Paragraph One. My name is Rita. New line." You type in the words, dismayed at how slow you have to go because of the pink talons on your fingers. You're only half finished with the sentence when he starts the next one.

"I am an air-headed secretary. I don't think. I do what I'm told. New line." You frantically try to catch up, your mind racing as the words slowly appear on the page in front of you. What kind of training is this? The nails keep you from going fast enough and he starts the next paragraph before you finish the one you're on.

"I don't ask questions. I don't complain. My mouth is not for speaking. New line." You type the sentences as fast as you can, wincing as your long nails cause you to type 'complain' as 'cfomplain'. You're not completely sure you got the sentences in the right order. Why is he going this fast? Can't he see that you're having trouble? 

"I am seen, not heard. I like to be seen. I like to look sexy. New paragraph."

With a quick confused glance at Mr. Kail, you type it in, trying to remember it long enough to get it onto the paper. Your eyes scan back over the paragraph. This has to be a joke! Some sort of office prank. What kind of training is this?

"Those are your rules to learn this morning, Rita. I want that paragraph typed on twenty five pages, eight to a page. Got it?" 

"Yes, Mr. Kail," you say, your voice already sounding recorded. You hit the Enter button twice to cue up the next paragraph. You hope you've transcribed it right. This is not the kind of man you want to have angry at you!

You type in the words, "My name is Rita." The pink talons cause another stupid typo. You hope they're not judging you on this stupid exercise. To your left, you hear Becky tap, tap, tapping away at her own typewriter. It sounds like she's doing short sentences like yours. You wonder if she has the same assignment. 

You finish the sentence. This is the dumbest training exercise you've ever had. These sentences are barely above an elementary school primer and they're horribly demeaning. What exactly does this brute want you to learn by doing this?

You type in the second line. Another typo. These blasted nails. You'll have to go slower.

You shift in the uncomfortable seat, trying to maneuver the chastity belt and the frilly underwear out of your butt crack. You don't succeed. The tickling ruffles of your panties do manage to summon another throb from your encased cock though.

You type in the third line. God this seat is uncomfortable. You shift again, and the rough texture underneath you causes your skirt to ride back up. You look down and see a peek of thigh in your lap and try to shift again to get it to disappear. You only succeed in working your skirt up further. 

This is unbearable. 

You stop typing and pull your skirt back down. 

"Is there a problem, Rita?" Mr. Kail asks in the most condescending voice imaginable, "I told you to type, not to play with your outfit. If you take those hands off of the keys again before you're finished, I'll make sure you don't HAVE an outfit to play with." 

You squeak with fear. He wouldn't dare try to undress you. Would he? 

Best not to take any chances. Your hands fly back up to the keys and to the fourth sentence.

There. One paragraph done. This isn't that hard. If only the seat wasn't SO uncomfortable. You type the paragraph again. Then again. By the fifth page it's ingrained in your memory. By the tenth, you know them by heart. 

Your skirt has ridden up again, but Mr. Kail's threat wins out over your instinct to correct it. Every second that ticks by makes you aware of the ridge in the center of the seat. It feels like the chair has a line in it that actually contours to the curve of your ass. It's like they want you to be uncomfortable. You wiggle around unable to help yourself, wincing as your skirt rides further up and the ridge climbs further between your ass cheeks. There is more than just a glimpse of your thigh showing now. Your eyes flash over to where Mr. Kail is sitting, and the leer he is giving you proves that he has noticed your skirt problems. You shiver. He's checking you out! 




Office Made..



Halfway through page eighteen, Becky stops typing and raises one hand up in the air as if she was in elementary school. She looks up hopefully at Mr. Kail. He lets her sit there for a minute before saying, "All done, Becky?" 

"Yes, Mr. Kail." Her voice singsongs the words.

"Bring them up here and let me see." he barks. Becky springs to her feet and minces up to Mr. Kail's desk. You can't help but watch her ass sway back and forth as she goes. The way those heels make her walk makes your mouth water. Then you remember that you have to walk that same way and another cold chill runs up your spine. 

You continue to type, but your eyes are on Becky as she reaches Mr. Kail's desk. He pats his legs with his hand and you can barely contain your surprise as she sits across his lap. This place is insane! One of his hands rests on the small of her back, while the other is on her knee. She holds the papers at a good reading level for him and he peruses the first page. 

"Say your lesson, Becky," he says. The hand on her leg moves upward slightly to rest just above the knee. Becky recites the words she has typed without looking at them. 

"My name is Becky.

I do what I'm told. I don't know what is best. I need to be corrected. 

I'm here to serve. I live to please. I love to give. 

I need to be watched. I like to be touched. I love to be used." 

You may have imagined it, but you think you hear a slight quiver in her voice on those last words, her eyes wet with moisture. You look down at the words you're typing and realize the similarity. You've memorized yours as well. You've typed these stupid simple sentences so many times that you don't even have to look back to know what comes next. They are training you! They're training you to become more and more like Becky. Docile. Obedient. Submissive.

Mr. Kail seems pleased. The hand on her back pats her ass affectionately while the hand on her leg seems to have disappeared under the hem of her skirt. This man is a sexual PIG! Becky squirms as his hand nears her crotch but she makes no effort to get off of his lap. 

"Good job, Becky, only eight typos." His voice is filled with good cheer. "I think this might be your last week of training." Her eyes gleam with hope. "How many weeks have you been training with me, Becky? You may speak." 

Her answer is clear and concise, "Five!" 

Five weeks! Five weeks of doing these stupid exercises with the pig every morning? You're going to go insane. 

He smacks her ass hard enough to make her squeal and jump off of his lap. He jots a quick note on a piece of paper and hands it to her. 

"I'll let you go get the three of us lunch today, Becky. You've earned a little freedom I'd say." Excitement fills her eyes. The poor girl must have such a boring life to get excited over taking a lunch order. "I'll have my usual. You and Rita will have salads. Get going girl!" He smacks her on the ass again. She scuttles from the room and disappears out the door and down the hall. 

His eyes fall on you and you quickly turn your attention back to your typing. 

"Rita," he growls, "Bring the pages you have finished up to me right now!" 

Flustered, you grab the pages and quickly wobble your way to the front. He pats his legs the same as he did for Becky. He can't be serious? He wants you to sit on his lap!?!

"This can't be happening," you think as you find yourself sitting awkwardly across his lap. Your skirt bunches up again, riding up high enough to show off your pink underwear. You squirm trying to fix it but his hand clamps down on your knee, chilling you into stillness. The heat from his hand radiates through the stocking. You feel his other hand on your back, equally warm through the thin material of your blouse. Your arm goes around his neck for balance which unfortunately makes you press your body against his. You can smell his cologne, a husky man smell that contrasts sharply to the fruity odor that emanates from your freshly exfoliated skin. He's so much bigger than you that you feel completely overwhelmed by his bulk.

A sudden thought occurs to you. Miss Payne talked to him about you, but did she mention that you're actually a guy? You wonder if he knows. You're mentally torn as to whether you want him to know the truth or not. On one hand, if he knows you're a guy, he has still insisted that you sit on his lap. At the same time, if he doesn't know and then finds out, you could be in serious trouble. You don't think this is a man who likes surprises. You begin to shiver with your predicament and the hand on your knee squeezes gently.

"You're doing well, Rita." he says, his voice soft and surprisingly sweet, "I'm only mean to you if you do something bad. When you're a good girl, you have nothing to worry about." The hand on your leg begins to move back and forth slowly...soothingly. You don't like the way this is going, yet at the same time, the soft stroking on your leg causes another tiny squirt of liquid to fill your panties.

"Now let's see your papers," he says, his tone jovial. You hold them up for him, much as Becky did, and await his response.

"Let's see what we have here," Mr. Kail says eyeballing the page in front of him. His hand continues to stroke your stocking-clad leg. "The first sentence is good. At least you're smart enough to know your name." He smiles at you, as if this is a compliment.

"No, no, no," he says, his voice once again reverting to the master scolding a pet, "You've got the second line all screwed up. Every time too. Stupid Bitch! That's ten points off." You don't like the sound of that.

"What is this? You really are a stupid airhead aren't you," he asks, not expecting an answer. "You've got the third line all messed up. I can't forgive this. Your score is ten points lower." He 'tsks' under his breath, the hand on your back sliding down to your ass and smacking it pertly. You 'Yip' in surprise and he chuckles at your discomfort, his hand staying on your ass.

"The fourth line is perfect." The hand on your butt squeezes and you wriggle uncomfortably. This can't be legal. You can't treat people this way and get away with it.

"These really aren't bad for your first day, Rita," the brute says, patting your leg. The final pat lands his hand a little further up your leg. You shiver, unable to help yourself. You are all too aware of what you look like, right now. The last thing that you need is to be on the lap of a sex-obsessed man!

"Say your lesson, Rita," he says. His hand is on your bare thigh now. Oh god, you can feel the throbbing beast beneath you. Without thinking you spout off the sentences you typed over and over. They come out perfectly and you weren't even focused on them.

"Good girl," he says. Before you know it's happening, you feel his lips press against your cheek in a soft, gentle kiss. The corner of his mouth touches the corner of yours and you flinch away. The man just kissed you! Your mind is reeling as Mr. Kail's eyes go back to the pages still in your hand.

"Six obvious typos on page one. I'm sure you'll do better tomorrow morning." Ha. You made fewer mistakes than Becky. Wait. Tomorrow? Oh Hell. Surely you won't have to do this for five weeks like Becky. Right? If only you could quit this job. But you can't...not until you get this stupid chastity belt off and find some regular clothes.

"You're a lucky girl, Rita, most new trainees get 40 or 50 spanks on their first day. 26 should be a piece of cake."

Your brain takes a moment to digest this. Spanks? What is he talking about? You look up at him questioningly, but his attention is diverted by Becky traipsing into the room with three lunch containers.

"Perfect timing, Becky," he says. He puts you on your feet as if you were no more than a rag doll for him to play with. "Let's go ahead and get your spankings out of the way girls, that way we can enjoy a nice pleasant lunch together. What do you say?" Instinctively you don't respond. You don't think this was an actual question.

"Becky would you be kind enough to show our new trainee the proper receiving posture?"

You watch with horror as Becky pulls her skirt up to her hips. She leans forward to ensure it will stay, and then puts her elbows down on Mr. Kail's desk. Her pale thighs practically glow against her stockings and dark, satin underpants. There's a surge of pain in your chastity belt from the sight of this woman's exposed ass. At the same time, your heart tries to tear itself from your chest in the fearful knowledge that you'll be expected to assume the same position.

"Rita, I'm going to let you do the honors," Mr. Kail said stepping around the desk to watch the proceedings, "She had eight typos, which means eight smacks. Make them good ones. Lessons aren't learned from leniency."

You can't believe this. He expects you to spank this woman eight times for mis-typing a couple of words. Worse yet, the odds are good that Becky is going to spank you for your mistakes. If you spank her hard, she'll probably retaliate, but if you don't spank her hard enough, Mr. Kail could punish you! This just isn't fair!

You stand behind Becky, unable to take your eyes off of the perfectly formed moons peeking around her underwear. This is like your wildest wet dream gone horribly wrong. Two women spanking each other makes you incredibly hot, but being one of the women seems to diminish the fantasy somehow. Or make it better. You can't quite decide.

You really don't want Mr. Kail to be upset with you, so you haul back and smack the poor girl's ass with all your might. Her smooth skin vibrates against your palm. She squeals. Your panties dampen. You repeat the process over and over. By the eighth smack, your hand hurts. You can only imagine how Becky must feel.

Her ass glows as you finish the final spanking. She stands up, letting her skirt fall back into place. You see the tears in her eyes, but there is something else there too. Anger. You have an uncomfortable suspicion that its not directed at Mr. Kail. She's angry at YOU!

"Your turn, Rita." Oh God. Can this get any worse?

You're trembling all over as you approach the desk. Never in a million years would you have thought this day would have turned out like this! You almost feel like you're in a dream, stuck in somebody else's body. You watch your hands with the long pink nails, slowly raise the short skirt up your legs. The slinky, sheer stockings dissolve into your smooth skin, covered only by the tiny garter straps. Then a tiny glimpse of satiny pink. The cool air on your rear causes goose bumps to pop up all over your body. You find yourself bending over at the waist, your elbows leaning on Mr. Kail's desk. Your long, blonde hair swishes in front of your face as if it was trying to hide your shame.

You can sense Becky walking up behind you. You shut your eyes. Your jaw clamps shut. Oh god, why is this happe...

SMACK!

Its worse than you imagine! Your smooth, sensitive skin seems to amplify the pain. Becky's not holding back. Not even a little bit. You feel a sense of resentment towards the bitch, despite the fact that you did the same thing to her only a minute before.

"1," Mr. Kail calls out, "Only 25 more to go!"

SMACK!

Your eyes start to fill with tears. 24 more. You try to block out the pain. You don't succeed.

Your ass is on fire. The good news is, you and Becky are allowed to eat standing up. The bad news is...everything else about the meal. Apparently secretaries at M&R aren't allowed to use silverware. You really should have READ the contract better. Eating salad with your fingers is not pleasant. Unfortunately, that's not the only impediment.

Mr. Kail ordered you to feed Becky...and for her to feed you.

So here you are, your fingers covered in a gooey Caesar dressing, trying to eat the pinch of lettuce that Becky holds between her fingers, while watching Becky's lips wrap around your own. There's no good way to do it, save putting her fingers in your mouth and letting her drop the food onto your tongue. She seems to have no reservations about this activity. Her own mouth eagerly wraps around your salad holding fingers, sucking the dressing off with no hesitation at all. The slut almost seems to enjoy it.

Slowly you finish the meal. The salads were miniscule and your stomach gurgles, feeling slighted. You glare at Mr. Kail. He pops the last bite of his turkey sandwich into his mouth with a grin.

"Still hungry girls?" he chuckles, "Don't worry, I have dessert for you."

The sexual tone to his voice frightens the hell out of you. Then you see the cup of tapioca pudding that came with his lunch and you feel better. Phew.

He pops open the lid and dips one of his big, beefy fingers into it. He holds the finger out to Becky. She doesn't hesitate.

Her lips wrap around it and she sucks the pudding into her greedy little mouth. You can't believe how slutty she is! You would never...

The same finger is extended toward you, pudding gooped all over it, the finger underneath it glistening with Becky's saliva.

Your stomach gurgles. Once again you're faced with a choice that doesn't feel like much of a choice. If you don't accept the pudding, this horrible man will punish you again. Your ass is still scalding from the brutal beating Becky gave you and the thought of another spanking makes you want to weep. At the same time, eating food from a woman's finger was one thing...sucking food off a man's finger was a different story entirely.

Determined not to be punished again, you lean forward and wrap your lips around his finger. It feels warm and meaty inside your mouth, and you fight back the gag reflex. You use your lips to scrape the pudding off into you mouth. The flavor is tapioca, but the way you got it into your mouth makes the texture really unpleasant.

"Well?" Mr. Kail asks, "Don't I get a thank you?"

"Thank you, Mr. Kail," you and Becky say in near unison.

"Yeah...thanks for letting us suck your finger you egotistical prick," you think. You've got to get out of here!

Mr. Kail looks at his watch. 

"Looks like our time is up for this morning. Becky! Give Rita a kiss and thank her for feeding you lunch."

Did he just say...

Suddenly Becky is pressing up against you. Her lips meet yours and you find yourself locked in a kiss. You can smell her flowery scent merging with your own. Her painted lips taste sweet, much as yours must taste. You feel her tongue flick against your lip, not entering your mouth but exploring just a tiny bit. Your locked away member spits in pleasure and protest. Then she pulls away, her head down, her face flushed with embarrassment. You feel an utmost certainty that she thinks you're really a woman. The guilty look on her face proves it to you once and for all. She feels guilty for kissing another girl.

"Rita! Kiss Becky goodbye and thank her for lunch."

You lean in toward Becky, feeling her body against yours again. God! What you wouldn't give to be alone with her and have this stupid chastity belt off for ten minutes. You feel like you're about to explode from pent up sexual tension. You gently put your lips against hers, feeling their moist tenderness melt into your own. Her tongue once again tickles your lip and then surprisingly slips into your mouth. You can feel her trepidation about kissing a girl even as she explores for a quick second before pulling away again. Her face burns as bright as your backside feels. She liked it. You have a feeling she's as turned on as you are.

"All right, girls," he says, walking around to your side of the desk. He wraps an arm around Becky, pulls her into an embrace and kisses her himself. He makes your own kiss look tame. His tongue does Olympic events into her mouth. One of his hands goes to the back of her neck. She moans at his touch, even as his other hand drifts downwards toward her backside. The kiss lasts forever, Becky surrendering to the brute's every will. He pulls away, leaving her gasping for breath.

Then he turns toward you.

Oh God.

He pulls you into himself, his massive body dwarfing your own. His lips meet yours with a harshness and you feel his tongue instantly start intruding inward. He explores your closed teeth with a passion and you feel his hands begin to explore your body. The one that clamps onto your neck, squeezes just hard enough to make you open your mouth. This lets the slimy intruder in and it begins to conquer the dark region with its writhing and wriggling. His other hand grabs your ass, pressing your body closer and harder against him. You feel the rigid thing that presses against your belly. You struggle to get away from this animal, but he holds you tight letting you go only when he finishes his exploration.

You find yourself gasping for breath just as much as Becky, even as your mind tries to come to grips with what just happened. A man just KISSED you!

"How do you like your new slut?" a voice from the door asks. All three of you turn to see the woman leaning in the door frame.

You know, without a doubt, that the smirk on Miss Payne's face is due to your predicament. She just watched this brute molest your mouth. She never told him you were a guy. He thinks you're just as much of a slut as Becky and this woman never even hinted otherwise. Your hatred for her swells to epic proportions.

"She's a hot little thing," Mr. Kail says, squeezing your ass for emphasis. You can't suppress a squeal. "It's gonna be a lot of fun breaking her in."

What did he mean by that?

"Well at least you've found a way to keep that sassy mouth of hers busy," Miss Payne laughs.

"Yeah...that's one way." he says. He smacks your aching ass hard enough to cause you to leap forward. Becky is already heading toward Miss Payne.

"Bye, girls," Mr. Kail says, his voice full of good cheer, "See you tomorrow."

He heads back to his desk, as you and Becky follow Miss Payne out of the room and back towards the elevator.

You stand next to Becky in the elevator and feel an irrational dislike for the girl. She is standing perfectly straight with her hands tucked behind her back. Her chest is puffed out, her perfectly formed breasts straining at the thin fabric of her blouse. Her head is lowered, with her eyes on her feet, the perfect display of feminine submission. She's making you look bad and at the same time driving you mad with lust. You can't help but stare at her breasts as she breathes slowly in and out...

"Rita!" Miss Payne growls without looking at you, "Stand up straight. You don't see Becky slouching do you?"

You glare at Becky. You might be wrong, but you think you see a slight smirk on her face. Well if she thinks she's better than you, you'll show her.

You copy her posture, standing even straighter and stiffer than the brown-nosing bitch. You wait expectantly for a compliment from Miss Payne. It doesn't come. This is SO unfair!

With your head hung submissively you have a good view of your heel-clad feet. God they hurt! The horrid shoes feel like vices.

They sure do make your legs look sexy though. What did Miss Payne call them? Fuck me shoes?

A throb in your chastity belt confirms this. Why should the idea of wearing 'Fuck Me' shoes turn you on? You've got to get out of this crazy place! You're wearing shoes that make men want to have sex with you, and what's worse...they're locked on your feet! When they let you out of this ridiculous chastity belt tonight, you're going to do whatever it takes to get out of here! Hell you might even change your name. Today has been the worst, most humiliating day of your life. With almost no effort these people have dressed you up with an outfit that NO self-respecting woman would EVER wear...much less a MAN! Only sluts like Becky would enjoy looking like this...being treated like this...

Your legs start to hurt from standing so stiffly. You shift slightly, trying to take the weight off of your toes. Your thighs brush together being tickled by the lace of your slinky, pink panties. Your trapped member throbs. God what you wouldn't give to be out of this chastity belt!




Office Management



I was very cross when I was overlooked for the job of Department Manager. My annoyance was increased when my new boss turned out to be Paul Petts, a young man, fresh from a business college, who was young enough to be my son! At least his predecessor had been older than me. Now aged 50, I found it was quite depressing to have a 24 year old manager.

My name is Rachel Simpson by the way. I knew there was no point moaning to my husband. Fred would be sympathetic at first but then he'd lose interest, preferring gardening to listening to me. We've been married for 26 years, but the spark had gone. I knew all about Fred's stash of girlie magazines in his shed and he knows that I know, but we both pretend that we don't.

Many women would have accepted their lot but I'm not like many women. I joined a gym, restyled and dyed my hair and defiantly refused to dress my age. My skirts became shorter, my blouses lower cut, my underwear much sexier. Soon I felt that I looked fabulous and I felt a renewed confidence.

Fred didn't notice at all, but to my surprise Paul did.

When he first started I was sure Paul had felt intimidated by me and he tried to cope by putting me down. However he soon realised that he needed my help to do his job properly and we began to work more closely. Then one day, when I was bent over his desk explaining something he had done wrong, I realised that he was unable to take his eyes of my cleavage. I finally caught his eye and then he blushed very red.

The next time, just before I went into his office I unbuttoned another button on my blouse; so that my lacy white bra was now clearly visible. The way I bent over his desk ensured that Paul noticed. He went very red and shifted uneasily in his chair. I wondered if he was getting an erection! Then I sat down and by hitching my skirt up a little and then crossing my legs slowly I gave him a very deliberate glimpse of her knickers. This made me feel so in control of him. He looked very embarrassed but couldn't take his eyes off me. As we talked I did it again, driven by the control I was exerting over him. When the meeting was over I felt a tremble of excitement -- I had just flashed her knickers at my boss and he had clearly loved it. He was trying to hide an obvious bulge in his trousers as I left.

I laughed as I saw him disappearing into the toilet. "Going for a wank probably," I thought. As I sat at her desk I had a thought. Carefully I reached under my skirt -- the gusset of my knickers was damp! Moving the material aside I could easily slip a finger inside my wet pussy! I decided that I also needed a trip to the loo. In my bottom desk drawer I keep a spare pair of knickers, in case of emergencies. Taking them with me, I went to the toilet. I have to confess I was about to start rubbing herself, when someone else came through the door. Too nervous to continue, I simply changed my knickers and left. Back in the office I popped the soiled knickers into the drawer to take home that evening.

When it was time to go home I was halfway to the car when I remembered the knickers. Returning to the office I opened the drawer. To my surprise they were gone!

"That's odd, I could have sworn I put them there," I thought, before dismissing the matter; if I waited any longer to leave I'd catch all the traffic on the ring road.

The next day I was even more puzzled when I opened the drawer to put in today's spare pair. There I found the pair from yesterday, replaced and freshly laundered!

As an experiment I changed knickers again that afternoon and again left them in my drawer. Just like the previous day when I returned to check, they were gone, but they were back, freshly laundered, the next morning!

On the third day, having left the knickers, quite damp after another day of flashing my boss, instead of returning I watched slyly from the stairwell. Two people went into my office, Brenda the cleaner and Paul my boss. "Now hich of them is most likely to be the panty thief and washer?" I wondered.

Next morning I got in early, before Paul arrived. As I suspected he came into my office and he was very flustered when he saw me there.

"Can I help you Paul?" I asked nonchalantly.

Blushing he stammered "um, d-do you have t-the Anderson report?"

"No Paul, I left it with you last night."

"Oh yes, that's right, I remember now." He was blushing a very deep shade of red.

"Is there anything else, anything you wanted to give me?" I asked sounding innocent as possible although I felt very excited.

"No its ok." He mumbled and left looking very uncomfortable.

Later that morning I made a point of telling Paul that I was popping out of the office and would be gone for half an hour. Sure enough on my return the clean knickers had reappeared in my desk! I barely suppressed a squeal of delight. My suspicions were confirmed -- he was the panty thief. For the rest of the day I tortured him by going in and out of his office, flashing my cleavage every time I leant over his desk and giving him a tantalising glimpse of my panties every time I sat down and crossed my legs; I felt so horny!!

At 3pm I went to the loo, taking the spare knickers with me. By now I was finding it hard to think about anything except my plan to confront Paul. In the loo I removed my skirt completely, hanging it from a hook on the cubicle door. "Flipping heck," I thought, "these knickers are already soaked!" I sat on the toilet with my legs open and rubbed my panties right into me. I had intended to leave when my knickers got quite wet but it was too nice. I rubbed and rubbed before I made myself cum! Afterwards I simply changed my dirty knickers and replaced my skirt and walked back into the office holding my soiled panties. I stopped in font of his desk and held my panties to my nose muttering "Gosh they smell a bit strong" and just dropped them on his desk in front of him. He seemed mesmerized as I walked away. Next day my panties were on my desk freshly washed and ironed.

For the following week we followed the same pattern. At the end of the day I dropped the soiled panties on his desk right in front of him. The next morning he placed them washed, ironed and perfumed, back on my desk. It was lovely. I could get my boss to wash my dirty knickers, but I began to want more...

A few weeks later Paul had to go away to a conference and he suggested that I should accompany him. I jumped at the chance and told my husband. Fred was so wet I had no worries about what he may have thought. He was probably just thinking which of his mucky dvds he would be able to watch.

Paul drove us both in his company car. I used the drive for two things; to find out a bit about his private life and to show as much of my stocking-clad legs as I could manage. I was surprised when he told me that he was married, but didn't allow that to change my plan.

The conference was being held in the meeting rooms of a posh 5-star hotel in the country, just outside of Oxford. It was much nicer than anywhere Fred had ever taken me. Our rooms were adjacent, both en suite, with soft bath robes hanging on the door invitingly. The conference was very, very dull. My only interest came from, seemingly carelessly, allowing my wrap-around skirt to flap open giving a view of my stocking tops and bare thigh above, to Paul who was sitting next to me at our table. From the bulge in his trousers he appreciated it too.

In the evening, after dinner, we had a drink together in the bar. We laughed and joked together and drank quite a lot. I have to be honest I got a little bit tipsy. When Paul was at the bar, I decided to unbutton another button on my blouse. I had however underestimated the distance between the buttons and was now revealing rather more of my boobs than I had intended. It didn't matter -- Paul loved the display. I leaned over towards him and whispered "Why don't we take these drinks up to my room, it'll be a lot cosier."

He nearly choked on his drink and his hand was shaking as he put the glass down. Trying to sound calm he replied "Ok, Rachel lets do that."

We went to my room, since I wanted to feel in control. We sipped our rinks for a while when I realised that I desperately needed the loo. 

I blurted our "Excuse me Paul, I need the bathroom."

It was almost electric as he gasped "Oh Rachel, do you really?"

I remembered something my friend Emily had once said about a partner of hers who was obsessed with watching her pee. He seemed so excited and I looked at him closely saying "Yes Paul, I must go." 

I walked very primly across the room to the bathroom knowing he was watching every step. When I got to the toilet I started to raise my dress and then lost my primness and burst out laughing. I wondered what fetishes my boss had. Could I possibly suggest he watched?

"Would you like to watch Mr. Petts?" I heard myself saying.

"Really!" he said with eagerness. There was no backing out.

"Get in here now and sit in front of me."

"Right away Mrs Simpson!" he replied.

There was no point in false modesty, so I completely removed my skirt, and as elegantly as possible slid my knickers down allowing them to fall to my ankles! There was my boss sat cross-legged on the floor, with an obvious bulge in his trousers, about to watch me pee. He watched in awe as I released a stream of pee.

After I had finished I said, "Wipe me dry Paul."

With trembling hands he tore off some toilet paper and gently wiped me dry. I stepped out of the knickers and walked into the bedroom, leaving him scrambling on the floor to pick them up, before following me. It seemed that I could do anything with him. 

I just sat on a chair and beckoned him to stand in front of me. As I pulled him towards me I joked "You watched me pee so now I am going to have a look at your cock Mr. Petts." I could see he was panting with desire and yet strangely terrified. I thought it was just guilt about being unfaithful to his wife. I unbuckled his belt, undid the button and lowered his zip. I then realized why he was so uneasy.

I looked up at him saying "You are wearing women's panties, Paul!"

He sort of squeaked and nodded. It felt delicious as first I stroked him and then I eased his penis out and jerked it up and down a few times. I felt in total control. I asked "Are these your wife's knickers Paul?" He squeaked and nodded again.

I was enjoying asking him questions and embarrassing him.

"So when you are holding big meetings in work you are wearing your wife's panties."

He nodded.

"Say it then" I prompted.

"Yes Ma'am, when I hold big meetings at work I am wearing my wife's panties."

"Don't call me Ma'am, call me Mistress." I snapped.

"Sorry Mistress."

I wanted to laugh. Here was my boss calling me "Mistress" as I was masturbating him in his wife's underclothes. It was so delicious.

I asked him his wife's name. He answered "Emma, Mistress."

I questioned him about his wife. Between gasps as I tugged on his cock, he told me that she was a high flying executive at a multi-national company and that he suspected that she looked down on him. Often at home alone he did all the washing and ironing and, unable to resist the temptation he had begun wearing Emma's panties.

I laughed "Well from now on Mr. Petts you will be my Pretty Paula."

He sobbed, but I was in no mood to let him off easily.

"Do you wear the panties you borrow from me?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Do you masturbate in them?"

"Yes Mistress."

As I was questioning him, I kept masturbating him. I felt so powerful I was so ecstatic. I wanted it to go on forever. Suddenly he came with a mighty gush. I wasn't expecting it. I felt annoyed with myself. Paul was crying in embarrassment and apologizing.

I made him lie on the bed and knelt astride him, lowering myself onto his face; I ordered him to lick. With no concern at all for him I ground my crotch into his face as I rubbed myself until I came.

Still sitting on his face I said casually, "When we get home Paula and I are going to have such fun."

He sobbed and pleaded with me to keep his secret. I told him that as long as he followed my orders his secret was safe with me.

He stirred as if to leave, but I told him to stay where he was.

"I thought you'd want me to go."

"Why, don't you want to sleep with me?"

"More than anything, you're so fucking sexy!"

I made him clean up his mess with tissues and then gave him my used knickers to change into. I undressed completely, and got into bed, patting the space beside me invitingly.

"Now Paula, you are going to hug me and tell me again how beautiful I am, while we fall asleep."

For the first time in ages I fell asleep embraced in the arms of a man who wanted me, rather than my pathetic husband.



Office Manager



Our new office manager Cindy was a perfect hire, a real ball buster. In less than two weeks she whipped our office into shape. She worked well with our guys because she was older, 40-something and a bit homely, maybe forty pounds overweight. No one wanted to date her, they just stay out of her way. 

One evening I was leaning back in my chair in my office with my eyes closed when Cindy walked in and asked if everything was okay. I was so stressed out. We got fired from one of our largest accounts earlier in the day and I had to fire one of our engineers. It wasn't a fun day. I admitted that it was a tough day and I was stressed out. 

Cindy told me she had a trick that would quickly relieve my stress. I laughed and told her to take her best shot. She sat in the chair facing mine and told me to close my eyes. She then placed her hand over my eyes, holding the lids down with her palm and fingers. What she did next nearly caused me to jump out of my chair. With her other hand she pressed it against my crotch, kneading her hand back and forth over my pants. I grabbed her hand and pushed it away as she said, "Just relax, trust me, this works." Still covering my eyes I let go over her hand and placed my hands on the arms of my chair. 

As she began pressing her hand against my crotch she began telling me to relax over and over in a soft, pleasant voice. It wasn't relaxing, in fact it was terribly stressful. Even more stressful when I began to get an erection. As she felt my penis get hard she said, "That's it, don't fight it, let it come." Then she said, "I am going to remove my hand, don't open your eyes, keep them closed." 

She moved her hand away from my eyes and together with her other hand she unzipped my pants and pulled out my fully erect penis. She sat on the edge of her seat and began rubbing it, slowly at first and then faster and faster. I kept my hands on the arm rests and my eyes closed as Cindy gave me a hand job. Once I had ejaculated she caught my semen in a tissue and helped me zip up my pants. She asked, "What did I tell you, didn't that relax you." 

I laughed and said, "Well, I am not thinking about the client or the employee anymore." She quickly excused herself and I left the office. 

Cindy began coming into my office regularly in the evening to 'help me relax'. One evening I laid down on the couch as she straddled my legs to get better access to my crotch as she began to give me a hand job. She always insisted that I keep my eyes closed and this evening she told me to 'hold on' as she let go of my penis to adjust her skirt or something. I was surprised when she leaned forward and instead of grasping my penis with her hands she had pressed my penis inside of her vagina. 

I immediately opened my eyes as Cindy began to ride my cock. It felt good. I couldn't believe what I was doing. Cindy wasn't attractive, but she was on my cock. I watched as Cindy fucked me and to my continued surprise she unbuttoned her shirt and bra and pulled my hands to her breasts. Cindy asked, "Does this feel good? Do you want me to stop?" I didn't want her to stop, but I didn't want her to know that. I didn't respond. I was about to have an orgasm when Cindy told me, "Just make sure you let me know before you cum so I can get off." I must have had a panicked look on my face as I began to cum inside of her. She could feel my semen filling her as she quickly rose up off of my penis. My semen was dripping out of her onto my stomach as she said to me, "You have to suck it out, NOW!"

Cindy lowered her vagina over my mouth and I didn't have much choice but to suck my own semen out of her. I think she was enjoying it as she began moaning as I continued to eat her pussy. When I was done she cleaned me off and climbed back on my semi-rigid penis. As she did I got hard again, having only partially cum she began riding me again, this time she was having her own orgasm. I felt myself getting ready to ejaculate again as Cindy arched her back and began really getting into her orgasm. She was cursing and moaning and almost yelling as I felt myself ejaculate inside of her again. Cindy didn't realize it this time and kept going until she was done.



Office Manager Is a Playboy Playmate



This is a true story until the point after she signs my magazine. I've fantasized about it many times. The "what I should have said", "what I should have done" scenarios that could have netted me an unforgettable experience.

I was preparing to move out. I had a few weeks to go and I was going to be relocating to another city. On my kitchen counter was the notice from the office staff of my apartment complex in a building near Los Angeles. It was some blasé notice about not leaving your things in the hallway, etc, blah, blah. I popped the top on a cold soda and read through it. The names. I remember the names of the apartment staff. One name stood out. A little bell went off when I read it. She was a playboy playmate from the 80's (let's call her Alina Suares). I had no doubt. My office manager was a former Playboy Playmate. She'd been Playmate of the month about 6 years earlier and I had owned the magazine. I used to store my Playboy's in a trash bag in the woods behind my house to keep them dry. I knew I had seen her in the building. She was the one always dressing up in a fine dress and high heels. Her hair was long, dark brown, and looked amazingly soft. I'd always written her off as out of my league and I didn't really want to get involved since I was already leaving town with anybody new. Still, I couldn't believe what I was reading. There was a thrill just knowing I'd seen her naked, already. I thought back to the issue. I knew I had owned it. I could remember jerking off to it many times in the woods, and thinking about it before I went to sleep. There was a rush knowing I had already cum on that magazine as a young man...thrilled to imagine my cum on the real breasts and nipples of this amazing beautiful woman. I had to talk to her.

I called around and found a store that was carrying the issue she was in. A few days later I went over and purchased the magazine and brought it home. As I walked into the building I made my way past the office as I carried the paper bag with her magazine in it. She wasn't there. I was disappointed. All of sudden, I saw her coming in the front door. It was like one of those movie moments where everything slows down. I tried to keep my cool as she walked past me while I carried the magazine she was in. I managed a solid "hello...how's it going" as we walked past. 

She said, "Hi there. How are you?". She looked so beautiful. Just perfect. She was about 5'6" and was wearing a black dress. Her buxom figure was all woman. Large breasts, trim figure, full and perfect ass. Beautiful face and lips.

I made my way to the elevator and up to my apartment. I laid it out on my bed with her centerfold fully open. My heart was beating so fast. I knew she was nearby. I dropped my pants and started to rub my cock. I was careful not to get anything on the magazine as I wanted it to be clean. It didn't take long before I was ready to cum. All I had to do was think of pulling those amazing nipples up into my mouth and fucking away. It was too much. I came on a nearby towel. It felt so good. I collapsed in pleasure and the dizzying after effects of a solid climax. I had to meet this woman for real. 

The next day, the plan came to me. 

I would act like a fan and ask her to sign the magazine for me. I waited until my rent was due a week later and headed down to the office on a Saturday. She was there when I walked in to drop off my check. Geez...my heart was beating so fast. I said, "Here's my check". 

I got a "thanks" from Alina and started to go back to the elevator. She was following me for some reason. I have no idea why. There were two ladies in the office and that appeared to be it. She was one of them. But for the moment we were alone. So in the hallway/lobby I decided the time was now. 

"Hey. This may sound weird but were you ever a Playboy Playmate?" 

She said, "Yes that was me." 

I said, "Oh, that's what I thought. I recognized your name on one of the apartment notices and thought it was you."

She said, "Do you look at Playboy?" 

I said, "Well...yeah. I did for sure when I was younger. I think your issue came out when I was about 16. I remember I liked it alot." We chatted about our ages, and confirmed the year, and how old I would have been and she would have been. I said, "Actually I have the issue up in my apartment." 

She said, "Oh my gosh...would you mind bringing it down?" She shouted out to the other lady calling her name. The lady started approaching. She said to me, "I've been wanted to show her for weeks the issue but I don't have one." The lady came out as she continued, "Kristin, this guy has my issue."

The lady acted super excited and said, "Oh I want to see it!" I said, "OK...I'll go get it." "When can you come down?" she said. 

"Is right now ok?" 

She said, "That would be great. No one else is here for a couple of hours at least until after dinner." 

"OK," I said, "I'll go get it now and come right back. Maybe you can sign it for me?" 

"Sure!" she said. So up I went to my apartment.

I was shaky. Adrenalin. I put the magazine back in the bag and it's all a blur. I made it back to the office and handed her the bag. She pulled it out. "Yep, this is it". They both started flipping through the magazine and looking at the pictures. When they got to the centerfold spread they slowed down. It was too amazing of a moment for me. They were both so beautiful. I had never been in a room with woman looking at porn before. It was overpowering me. She laid it down on the counter and started talking about the shoot. She shared that Playboy had done a shoot later with her and her sister and tried to get them to touch each other and she had really been turned off by that. She pulled out a pen and asked me where I wanted her to sign. 

I said, "Well, sign the centerfold." She started to sign over the breasts and I said, "Not there, that's my favorite part." She smiled and signed for me, and put the magazine back in the bag. There was more chitty chat and I was kind of hanging around. I said, "Well, I'm going to head back up to my apartment. Thanks so much. This was really fun."

Alina said, "It was really fun. I hadn't seen this in years. Thank you. Hey, let me walk you to the elevator."

We left the office and she walked with me to the elevator. As the elevator was opening she said, "Hey, what is your apartment again?" I told her. "Do you have more magazines up there? I mean Playboys? I had some other stuff I wanted to show Kristin." I told her no, that this was my only one I had acquired when I thought it was her. She said, "well maybe if I find some we'll come up and look at them up there." 

I said, "Sure, that sounds fun." I told her the store where I had bought the archived issue and she made a note of it. And that was it.

I got back to my apartment and collapsed. I was so aroused I felt like I was going to explode. I had to find some greater release than just over the magazine. I started plotting. What could I do? I needed video. There was no internet at that time. Maybe there was an X-rated theater I could go to and jerk off there? Having no girlfriend really sucks at times like these. Maybe I could pose for somebody. Call one of those "photographer seeking male model" ads. For some reason that thought of posing nude has always been a huge turn on for me. I was formulating a plan to meet the moment when the phone rang. I picked it up. It was her.

"Hey, I got something I want to show you. Can we come up?"

I paused...not wanting to seem too excited, "Um...yeah, you can come up. What time? I've got something to take care of later." 

Alina said, "We're on a break for a little while. Honestly, they don't even need us here today. We're free to roam the building and grounds. I'm kind of excited to show you guys what I've got."

"OK, see you soon," I said and hung up.

I put the bag on my dresser and looked in the mirror. What was going to happen? I had no idea. But the moment was overwhelming me. I started wondering what I could say, what I could do, with them alone in my apartment. I didn't want to make a mistake or be called a pervert. I really just wanted to cum. I needed to cum. I wanted her tits in my mouth. I wanted to see her pussy...see her naked on my bed. 

I went over to the fridge and looked for something to get me some energy. There was some sandwich turkey meat. I ate it up and had some milk and realized I was shaking with excitement. My hands were wobbly. I'd never talked to a Playboy Playmate before. Never even really seen one in person. I wondered what it was she was going to show me. I started to play out scenarios. Would we be looking at nude pictures again? Was it some paperwork for the apartment? Was it some book? I gave up. It was going to be impossible for me to figure it out. I turned on the TV. I debated what I should put on not knowing when they were going to arrive. I could put on a Playboy video. That might give us something to talk about. I went to the Pay Per View menu. I could do the Playboy Channel on a daily rate. I clicked the purchase button and started watching some show where the hostesses were on a couch with some apparent guests. People were making love all around the set. There was some boob kissing discussion going on with the couch-sitters. I suddenly decided to turn it off. I didn't want to turn anybody off by being too lascivious or to into porn. I figured Alina had some class and could find it a turn off. Until I knew her better I decided not to risk it. 

Knock knock knock. That was fast. I went over to the door.

"Come on in..." I said welcomingly. They made their way in to the apartment, Alina first. "You want something to drink?"

"Sure what do you got?" she said. She had a briefcase and set it down on the dining room table with Kristin coming in behind her. She went to my fridge and opened it up. "Oh I love diet coke," and she grabbed and popped one open. "Want one, Kristin". Kristin was taking her sweater off at the dining room table with the briefcase. 

"Sure," said Kristin. She got Kristin a can.

"Got anything I can put it over?" Alina asked.

"I've got Tequila and some Rum if you'd like," I offered.

"Oh some rum would be perfect." Alina reached up for a glass while I grabbed the rum and started prepping some drinks. "Where's my issue?" she asked.

I said, "You want to see it again? It's in my room."

"Yeah, I wanted to look at something in it if you don't mind." Alina seemed to have a plan. I started walking into my room and she followed me with her drink. She looked amazing. And smelled it too. "Cute room," she said, as I circled to my dresser on the far side of my bed. 

"Thanks...I like it. I sleep pretty good." I got the bag and handed it to her.

She opened it up while she was walking back to Kristin at the dining room table and opened it up. Then she opened up the briefcase and pulled out some other Playboy issues. "These aren't the one I wanted but I wanted to show you guys what I was saying about the difference in the pictures". She laid out 3 centerfolds including her own. She was by far the most beautiful one. She went on to discuss the lighting variations and how the photographers do their job. The sets were getting more and more simple these days. Back in her day there were more elaborate. 

I said, "It's all very interesting to me. I have always wondered, if you don't mind me asking, what was it like being naked in front of a stranger and his crew...and all those people? Was it exciting?" She explained the thrill and the eroticism of it...but it was just a job, etc, blah blah blah. 

She continued, "I actually remember one time in a shoot I was in a park, on a blanket. There were a few guys and one lady on the crew. They were keeping people away while I laid on the blanket in the grass. I can remember putting my hand down ...there...(she pointed to her vaginal area)...and actually masturbating in front of everyone. It was probably one of the most erotic moments of my life. I loved the feeling of touching myself while people were looking." As she said this her hand went over her crouch and she looked at me and sort of cupped her crotch on the outside of her clothes. She looked over at Kristin and smiled and let out the slightest moan.

Kristin seemed to be bothered. She looked agitated. Like something had upset her all of a sudden. "Are you ok Kristin?" Alina asked.

Kristin said, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just am feeling weird." She shook her head slightly back and forth trying to shake the feeling away. "I'm getting a little hot and bothered what with all the nude pictures and the crotch rubbing," We all laughed and acknowledged the reality of what we were looking at and doing. I took a drink of my rum and coke and felt my heart in my throat. Beating. Hard.

"Listen," I said. "Don't be uncomfortable on my part. This is all good with me. You guys should just ...just feel welcome here. I'm happy to have you here. I have to admit I'm feeling a little hot and bothered myself." I let my right hand drop down to my pants over my crotch and let out a little sigh.

"I wish I could share the feeling with you guys," Alina said. "It was so fucking...amazing".

"Did anybody else do anything, like pull their cock out, or go topless or something?" I asked.

"No, it was just me. But I do remember seeing some bulges in pants and some shifting going on. The guys were comfortable reaching into their pants to "adjust". That just made it more erotic for me. They would come stand near me and adjust while I was masturbating and it was...just...oh...I'm sorry I'm only making it worse aren't I?"

Kristin rolled her eyes. "Don't fucking stop there. Did you cum in front of them?"

"Multiple times," Alina said. "The best, warm, erotic climaxes I can ever remember. Just unforgettable."

Kristin, "I feel like I'm buzzed. Is that the alcohol or the discussion...I'm not sure." She poured some more rum and coke. I got her some more ice cubes. "Thanks," she said. Her hand dropped down to my calf outside of my paints and she ran her hand up to under my ass and squeezed a little bit. 

"You're welcome," I said. 

Alina said, "I'm a little buzzed, too...and feeling a little left out. Can you get me some ice cubes, too?". She reached for the rum bottle and started to pour some more in her glass. I went for more ice cubes. When I got back to her I put them in her glass and bumped her breast into my arm. She smelled so good. And her breast I knew was soft and amazing. I wanted this to go further. I wasn't sure what to do.

"Hey, I have got to hear more about this. What was going on when you got undressed the first time?" I went over to my couch in front of the TV. My couch is nice. It's an L shape and is super comfortable. I've always prided myself on my awesome couch. I sat down on a couple of pillows and put my drink on the coffee table coaster. The girls started coming over and Alina went back towards the kitchen.

"Wait, you got any chips or nuts or something?" she asked me.

"Yeah, right in the cupboard by the fridge," I responded.

"Ah sweet, Ruffles!" as she found them. She grabbed the bag and came over to the couch with drink and chips. "Let's see...what were we talking about?"

Kristin chimed in, "First time nude."

"Ah, yes," Alina started, "Well, my first time with Playboy was pretty funny story. It was on a nice big river beach. There was this yellow canoe...and an oar...and I can remember the little tent they had set up for me. I was so nervous. I stripped down and put on a big ole robe. When I came out the sand felt so good to my toes. I was wondering if I should even be doing this. But they made me feel so comfortable. When I took my robe off nobody even really looked anywhere other than my face. The water was so cold! But I loved it. It was more fun than exciting. Pretty soon I almost forgot I was naked!"

I was trying to think of a way to bring up the Playboy Channel without being too pervy about it. Finally I struck on an idea. "Hey, I was wanted to ask you another question. I want to turn this on." I turned on the TV and changed the channel real quick away from Playboy so that it didn't look like I had it on that channel to begin with. Once the TV was on, I flipped it back to Playboy TV and the interview show was still going on. "Do you know this lady who does the interviews on this show? I mean, did you ever get a chance to work with her or anything."

"Oh my gosh!" Alina started. "I love Playboy TV. Yeah, that's Tiffany Granath...the red head, right?"

"Yeah," I said. This was fantastic. Smooth transition to get the TV on.

"Tiffany Granath is amazing! Her mother was...oh what are they called...her mother is actually of the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes. She is super fun to work with. She was there at the studio that day me and my sister were having a shoot. Very nice lady. Amazing body."

All of a sudden there was a guy getting a blowjob on the screen from one of the side stage areas.

"Shit," Kristin said. "What kind of TV is this?"

Alina answered, "Playboy TV...it gets kind of slutty sometimes but its fine. Some of the guys are absolute dorks though. Not a great place to find a man. Which may explain why I'm still single."

Kristin's hand slipped down to her crotch and she pushed in a little bit and then pulled her hand up away and high. She let out a longer sigh and she reached for the ceiling. She then poured some more rum and coke and took some chips.

"Do you guys want to see what it was like?" Alina asked.

"What do you mean?" I could only imagine.

"What it was like to be around me while I'm naked? Working?" Alina put her right hand on her hip and took a big drink of her rum and coke.

"Like what?" Kristin asked. 

Her hands went up to the top of her blouse and she undid one button. "Well...," she started, "I'm willing to show you if you all are cool with it?"

Kristin wondered out loud, "What kind of work are you going to be doing."

"We'll think of something," she said and undid the second button.

"Its ok with me," I said. "We could think of some kind of work. I have always been curious what it's like at a photo shoot."

"Well, I'll need a bathrobe", she said.

"Done." I went into my bedroom and looked at myself in the mirror as I walked past. Eyebrows raised, confident I was going to see Alina Suares naked soon. I grabbed the bathrobe and reached into my pants to give my growing cock some room to breathe.

When I got back to the dining room she had her blouse off. Bra was still on. I laid the robe on the table for her. She undid the clasp on her bra from the back. Kristin was still sitting on the couch...a look of puzzlement on her face. The bra started to slide off. She covered her nipples with her hands and let it fall. She was topless in my dining room.

Kristin said, "Oh this is not fair."

"What?!" She laughed.

"Well how are we going to keep our hands off you?" Kristin queried.

"Maybe you won't have to." and she dropped her hands and started removing her skirt.

"Fuck me." Kristin blurted. Kristin put her drink down. She raised both hands to the edge of her shirt and started raising it up over her own body. I backed a step into the wall to prevent my knees from falling out from under me.

"You're not getting out of this," she said to me. "Come undress me," and walking me backwards into my bedroom, boobs bouncing in all their glory she went to my bed. They were white near the nipple and tan on the edges from her bikini line. They were very large. They looked just like I imagined they would...no airbrush...just real, beautiful breasts. I looked back to Kristin who was undoing her own bra clasp now at the dining room table."

"You coming?" I asked Kristin.

"Oh yes...", she said to me. 

I went into my bedroom and fell down to my knees in front of the nearly naked Alina. I looked up and had this awesome view of her hanging breasts. They were much like I had looked at in the magazine but better. They were real. They were here. They looked warm and soft and suckable. My hands went up to her panties and my fingers dropped into the elastic waist band and I started to pull them down. They started to roll up into a narrow line of material that I had to roll down like a rubber band rolling off a rolled up magazine in the mail.




Office Manager Is a Playboy Playmate



There I was inches away from her vagina. Her bush. Her glory. It was fully haired, but trimmed clean. The smell was all woman. I knew I could put my tongue in there and bring her to pleasure. Kristin came up beside me and stood to my right. Kristin was topless but still had her bottoms on. I had Alina step out of the panties and she stood there nude. She turned toward Kristin, "Well...what kind of work are we going to do today on our lunch break?"

Kristin laughed and her hands went nervously up under her breasts. It looked like it was the first time Kristin had ever sexually touched another woman's breasts. I was still on my knees at the base of amazingness.

Kristin said, "Can I kiss them?" She nodded and comfortingly touched Kristin's hands on her own breasts. Kristin kneeled down and slowly, opened her mouth about 2 inches away from her left nipple. Her tongue came out and she inched closer. Finally tongue met nipple in a moment that sent shudders through all 3 of us. Kristin's lips enclosed the nipple and she pulled it softly. My playboy playmate perfection moaned in pleasure. My hand instinctively arose to Alina's vagina. My middle finger extended underneath her and started working its way in. More moans. She said to me, "Please get undressed." I pulled my hand back and stood up and started to take my shirt off. "You too," she said to Kristin. Kristin withdrew from her nipple, from that amazing breast and started to quickly remove her bottoms. Our love toy sat down on the bed and scooted back so she was more fully on it. My pants were coming off and Kristin was ready to lay next to her. There was cum already coming out as my underwear was showing some leakage. "Exited?" she asked me. 

"Yes, very much." I said as the underwear came off. I was so hard I still felt like I was going to explode. But I was less nervous now. Kristin crawled up next to Alina and went to her lips. They started French kissing. I came up from the bottom of the bed and put my hand back where it had been. I knew how to make a woman climax. She was ready to peak after just a minute of touching her love box. I found her clitoris and started working my magic hand. I knew that if I can make her cum anything was possible today in terms of where I would get to cum. Of course I was using my right hand and Kristin was to my right so I was not able to touch her. My left hand was too far away. But I looked at her. She was nude now. Her pussy about a foot from my face. It was beautiful. Light brown hair, clean. Her legs looked so fucking beautiful. Where was I? Was this really happening?

Alina started to peak. It was a loving moment. Her hips were swaying. Kristin had moved back down to her left breast. My left hand had come up Alina's leg and was moving up to her right breast. As I knew she was getting close to climax my left hand found the way to her left nipple and started rubbing and flicking. That was it. She was done. She peaked in complete pleasure. It went on for about 20 seconds as her hands came down to her pussy and started extending the feeling for herself. I raised my body and came up between her legs and wondered what I wanted to do. Where did I want to go? My head dropped right down between her breasts and I kissed her chest. Slowly moving out towards the left breast with my lips and tongue. Kristin put her left hand down between our playmates legs and softly roamed on her exterior edges. I decided I really want to fuck Alina. I wasn't sure how it would go. I was wondering what kind of protection I would need. She opened her eyes and looked at me and said, "Get inside me." With pleasure. My cock was perfectly positioned to find its way in and Kristin's hand was tingling my balls. I rubbed up and down outside of Alina's vagina for a few strokes and then I started to push in. I was ready to cum in about 3 seconds. But I wanted to see those titties bounce from the fuck. So I pumped and watched them go. Up and down. Tan lines, veins, powdery white beauty, jiggles, wave pools. Up and down. Amazing. Kristin went up to kiss her some more and found that her new love friends hand had moved to her pussy. Alina was rubbing Kristin's clit. Kristin moaned and laid back on the pillow turning slightly sideways while I was fucking Alina. My right hand went over to Kristin's breast and squeezed while I was fucking. I thought, can I fuck one girl, suck that girls tit and squeeze another girls tit? The answer was yes. I was ready to cum. My hand withdrew from Kristin's breast and I said what was about to happen. I pulled out and quickly climbed up Alina to straddle her chest. My dick was at its breaking point. I had to cum now. I asked her, "Can I cum on your face?" 

She said, "I'd like that. Just don't get it in my eyes, ok?" I agreed and let it go. On her mouth. On her nose. On her check. And the last 2 drops on her perfect huge white left titty. I collapsed on my pillow.

She continued to work Kristin with my cum on her face. She went in for a kiss with Kristin and my cum got swapped between them. Her hand was working its magic between Kristin's legs. I roused myself and turned down to Kristin's legs and started rubbing my hands tenderly along her nude lower body. My hands inched up her backside to the under part of her ass. There were these pubic hairs between her ass and clit that seemed to trigger a massive reaction. This was all it took. She peaked with an amount of apparent pleasure that is hard to describe. Her head collapsed on my pillow and she wiped her lips off of some of my cum. "Holy fuck", Kristin said.

"Yeah," said Alina.

"That felt really good," I said.

We rested for a few minutes and got under some of the covers. Hands soothingly rubbing each other's non sexual parts. Then a breast. Then a leg. Then the hair. I got up to get some towels and passed them out. I went in to my master shower and turned on the water. "I'm going to rinse off," I said. "You guys are welcome."

I got into the shower and shut the door. I couldn't believe what had just happened. The water felt so good. Nobody came to join me but I didn't care. I was satisfied and spent. I finished up and shut the water off.

"Leave it running...we're coming," Alina said. I left it running and got out and grabbed a towel. The girls got up from the bed and came back to where I was. "We're going to rinse off." 

"I'll set out some towels," I said.

"Watch us, okay?" Kristin asked me.

"Sure...go ahead...enjoy." I reached down to the cupboard for some large, nice towels. They climbed into the shower and washed each other up over a few minutes. I could see them through the glass door. There was some kissing and hands longingly moving over each other's bodies. The hot water started to run out and Alina shut the water off. "Here are the towels," I offered as the exited. I watched them dry off. I felt like I was living in a Playboy video with these two amazingly beautiful naked women. We got dressed and chatted for another hour and then the girls had to go. We talked about what an amazing and unforgettable experience this had been. When we were dressed I asked if I could get a picture of the 3 of us. They came in for me with my selfie. I'll always remember that day.