Professional Assistance (Patreon)

This is a continuation of the Button-Popping story I wrote for Kinktober 2022. I've written so many drafts and jotted down so many ideas for this pair that never quite gelled, but I'm really satisfied with their dynamic in this version.

Also, for folks wondering about the refunds: the whole thing is kind of annoying and complicated and I'm still working on it! If you paid for January 2024 and would still like a refund, I'm expecting to be able to process the rest of them in March! If you haven't yet gotten a refund and would instead like something a little different in exchange like a short commission, let me know. In either case--thank y'all for your patience!

**

Susannah yawned as she slouched her way into the elevator that would take her to her boss’ penthouse door. It had been an excruciatingly long day, and riding up to his fancy apartment always put her in a mood. Who had an apartment so big the elevator slid right up to the front door? Appalling, really. Her feet ached in her sensible heels and she tried not to grieve the extra hour it would take to get home after this. She fumbled a bit pressing the right button in the elevator, her hands nearly too full to manage it. But at least this task was the simplest of her day: drop off some key paperwork Mr. Carter needed to look over in anticipation of his latest corporate acquisition (because of course he demanded paper copies of contracts), and his dry cleaning.

The dry cleaning was something she usually would’ve said was outside her purview, if not beneath her. It was technically a personal task, and if any other executive at the company was caught using their assistant to run their personal errands there would be hell to pay. But something had gone wrong with the service that usually delivered his dry cleaning, and Susannah knew he was running out of clothes that fit. Which meant that it was business-critical, at least in a roundabout way. Even if it wasn’t, Susannah knew Adrian would be completely worked up from the moment he arrived at the office if he had to squeeze into clothes that would barely button. Keeping him comfortable was better for everyone.

She knocked on the door out of habit, figuring Mr. Carter was out or, better yet, asleep. She managed to unlock the door without too much trouble and stepped inside with a sigh, door sliding shut behind her as she headed toward the front closet. She moved slowly, taking a few moments to admire the view out the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Bay. She’d only been in his apartment a handful of times previously, and the view was still impressive as ever. But she needed to get home, and the longer she spent dallying, the more likely it was that she’d have to take the Owl bus instead of the train to get home. She slipped the dry cleaning into the closet, then went to the kitchen, where she planned to leave the contract on the counter next to Mr. Carter’s coffee machine.

Instead, she ended up yelping in surprise and nearly dropping the whole stack of documents. Adrian was standing right there, digging a spoon into a quart of ice cream. “Mr. Carter!” she blurted. She figured he must’ve just gotten home from a night out. His button-up shirt was most of the way open and showing off a sliver of plush, lightly furred chest and belly that Susannah had been trying not to think about since his buttons popped off his shirt after a too-hearty lunch. His hair was mussed, and he had a shameless little smile on his face that made her feel even more embarrassed, like he’d just walked in on her half-undressed instead of the other way around. She didn’t know what to do, so she covered her eyes with one hand and turned around while she attempted to collect her thoughts. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t expect to run into you.” She turned back to face him, schooling her face into smooth professionalism, a flush creeping up her neckline. “I was going to leave these for you, but since you’re here, you can take them directly.”

“Thank you for your diligence, Susannah,” he said as he popped a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and held the spoon there so he could take the contract with his free hand. Oh, to be a spoon… Susannah allowed herself to think before realizing she was almost certainly staring too closely at her boss’ mouth and forced herself to look down.

Unfortunately, this resulted in her taking in more of him than was strictly necessary. Of particular note was the way the waistband of his pants was pinching into him, exaggerating a doughy muffintop of love handles usually hidden by his suit jackets. She had time to notice the way his pants hugged his thighs, too—in a completely professional way, only because she would need to schedule a fitting for him soon so he could update his wardrobe. She had absolutely no personal feelings about how biteable his thighs looked that evening. No time to be feral on the clock, she reminded herself—as if that had ever stopped her from thinking increasingly desperate things about him.

“It’s my job, sir,” she said, forcing herself to stare at the marble floors and no higher. “Is there anything else you need? If not, I need to catch the last train.”

He hummed a little around a mouthful of cookie dough and ice cream she knew was more butterfat than anything else. “I’m sure I could put you to work somehow.”

He was teasing, but the heat flowing through her made his tone sound flirtatious. But that was fantasy. Mr. Carter wasn’t the type to fuck his secretaries, or any secretary, Susannah was certain. Regardless, she didn’t know how to respond, so she merely smiled at him, assuring him she was in on the joke.

“You’re too patient, Susannah. Go home. But I don’t want you on the train so late. Wait in the lobby—my driver will come get you and take you home.”

“Sir, that’s not necessary, I’m perfectly fine taking—”

“I insist. Think of it as a bribe not to talk to HR.”

She managed not to roll her eyes, somehow. “Of course, sir.”

**

Around her third “work anniversary” (a hideous concept that even a dedicated worker bee like Susannah found nauseating), she decided that Adrian was torturing her on purpose.

This latest instance was the worst yet. He’d asked her to join him during a series of meetings that day to take notes. In an era of recorded meetings and auto-generated captions and transcription, she assumed what he really needed was to use her to show off for the client. It wouldn’t have been the first time. He liked having extra bodies in the room, bolstering numbers to assure clients they had his full attention and all available company resources were being dedicated toward them.

The first meeting went smoothly. Facilities had organized the catering for it, and there was a respectable spread laid out. Everyone enjoyed their lunch, the client asked some questions and got some answers, Susannah took notes so detailed she knew she’d get scolded for it later and be asked to provide a far shorter summary—entirely ordinary.

Only, then there was a second lunch meeting. Different conference room. Also catered. And no one else from the first meeting was sitting in on the second, except Susannah and the boss himself. Again, Susannah busied herself with her notes, but felt like she might choke when she realized Adrian had filled his plate twice over the course of the meeting and moved on to a dessert course. She bit the inside of her cheek hard to keep herself focused on her job. Not that her employer made it easy. His usually soft gut was swelling outwards against his shirt, the outline of his bellybutton taunting her. A haze of arousal crept through her mind, her core going warm and liquid and fuck she couldn’t wait to go home.

The third meeting of the day was out of the office, and proved to be the most unbearable. The two of them headed down to the parking garage below the building where Mr. Carter’s car was waiting, and Susannah squashed down any and all of her thoughts as he leaned against the wall of the otherwise empty elevator and tried to catch his breath after the short walk from his office. In the car, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable, legs spread wide enough that their knees were touching while he tried to give his stomach room to expand. She didn’t even have the presence of mind to make small talk, her whole body a tightly wound spring. He wasn’t up for much conversation anyway, instead letting his head rest against the seat while he took slow, deep breaths that made his swollen stomach rise into the corner of her vision, tempting, teasing.

Once they left the car, though, he acted as if nothing was wrong. They sat down to lunch and he ordered like he hadn’t already had two. She actually broke a bit, pursing her lips and widening her eyes at him as if to say, Are you sure you want to eat a plate-sized steak and a side of fries? Really, really sure? He saw her face and grinned back, like he was asking her to keep a secret once again. She licked her lips and turned her attention to her notes, which was all well and dandy until the food arrived.

To the untrained eye, it was a perfectly ordinary meal. He was clearly a big man with a big appetite, but that was hardly unusual. Susannah, however, could see that he was taking it slow. In part, he was savoring each bite, but she could see he was struggling a little. Halfway through the meal, she noticed two of the buttons on his shirt starting to gap. A shirt she’d ordered for him only a few weeks before. She tried to remember the measurements, but couldn’t hold the numbers in her head. Even worse, this made her reflect on how much bigger he’d grown since she’d started. Three years ago, he’d had some healthy chub around the middle—it had suited him, she thought, given how tall he was. He’d looked solid then.

Now, he’d plumped up by something in the neighborhood of a hundred pounds. (You are not proud of this, do not feel proud of this, she thought as a little scream built up inside her chest.) It was getting harder to find clothes that would fit him, and keep them fitting him for very long. And yet here he was, stuffing himself with the last few french fries on his plate, patting his stomach and talking about what a good meal it had been. Glancing at Susannah like they’d both gotten away with something.

The walk to the car was slow, his gait lumbering as he tried to avoid jostling the feast inside his gut. When they both sat down in the backseat, he groaned a little. He looked comically bloated now that he was able to spread out.

“Cancel everything for the rest of the day,” he said before belching into his fist. “Think I overdid it.”

“You think?” Susannah murmured, not realizing she’d said it aloud.

“My dear assistant speaking her mind for once? Color me surprised.”

She looked at him, wide-eyed and mortified. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean—”

“You meant it,” he said with a grunt as he reached under his heavy stomach to unbutton his pants. His stomach was so weighed down it didn’t even really bunch up like it should have, too stretched by hours of gluttony to form temporary rolls and folds. “Can’t be mad at you for having eyes, though. Fuck, I’m full.”

The buttons on his shirt were gapped wide now, the fabric pulled so taut she worried she might lose an eye if he took too deep a breath. His hands were pawing at his middle, trying to find some relief. She’d seen him full before, but never like this—half-stranded, breathless, the picture of reckless gluttony.

It made her feel reckless, too. Reckless enough to do something that would cost her the job she’d worked so hard at for years. (Though not reckless enough that she wasn’t grateful there was a privacy screen between them and the driver.)

She clambered into small amount of lap he had left and shoved her hands underneath his shirt, buttons giving way and clattering onto the seat and the floor. She felt like she’d gone mad with greed as she took handfuls of him, only able to think about how soft he’d grown. She was breathing even harder than he was as she leaned in to kiss him, hands pressed firmly against the hot curve of his belly. But before their lips made contact, he laughed. She stopped for a long moment, then moved to go back to her seat, embarrassment rushing through her limbs and making her extremities go numb as she realized how badly she’d ruined things, but he held her there.

“So this is what it took, then? I had to go out of my way to debase myself in public to finally get you to crack?” He gripped her hips so tight she gasped a little.

“What?” she said, confused. “I don’t… understand.”

He pulled her in closer, forcing her to bend herself around the boulder of his belly. “So dense sometimes for such a smart woman.” His stomach gave a loud groan, and she felt the rumble between her thighs, delicious and not nearly enough. She squirmed. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are. Didn’t take me long to realize how much you were enjoying fattening me up.”

“I didn’t! I just—”

“Did your job?” he countered. “Every other assistant wanted me on a steady diet of kale and tofu, and you kept trying to put me into a food coma every time lunch rolled around.” He slipped a hand up her skirt, giving her slim thigh a squeeze. “Thought it might just be you being a little too indulgent at first, trying too hard to keep me happy and not insult me. But then you’d get this look in your eye like you were daring me to eat even more.”

She covered her mouth with her hand to silence her moan as his thumb grazed the front of her underwear, already soaked through.

“I kept testing you, but you never broke. Thought it might just be my imagination for a bit. Figured I’d give it one last try before I dropped it, though.”

Susannah found herself rocking against his hand and biting her own in desperation. Tears of want pricked the corners of her eyes. She didn’t even have time to be ashamed of how transparent she’d been.

“Figured if I was right, you wouldn’t be able to resist watching me eat like a pig for hours.”

She whimpered and looked him in the eyes, and he looked so fucking pleased with himself, smug as could be. Which only turned her on more. “You were right,” she managed to say as he nudged her underwear to the side, his thumb circling her clit.

“I’m always right.” That made her scoff, but the sound was cut off and turned into a quiet keening when he slid two fingers inside her. “Always.”

She couldn’t say more after that. She pawed at his belly for support and rode his hand until she came, years of tension bursting from her. When she finished, she slumped against him, nuzzling her face against his neck, thighs wrapped tight around his plump sides.

“What now?” she asked sleepily. “I’m fired, right?” Not that she cared. Just then, it felt worth it.

“Fired? No, I was thinking you deserved a promotion. Chief Growth Officer has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” he teased.

She laughed quietly. “Like you could ever find an assistant to replace me.”