Employee of the Month, Finale & Epilogue (Patreon)

A Commissioned extension for Jack Mackenzie to his Story Tier Prompt

Francis Howard is a young, cocky alpha male who is heir to his father's business empire. Promoted to head of marketing, he quickly earns the ire of his team for his chauvinistic and oppressive management style. But one day Francis discovers he has Lumin's Syndrome, a rare genetic condition that means his body is turning into a woman's. Francis races to fight the changes, before his reputation within the office takes on a very different dimension.

• First Part
• Previous Part

Employee of the Month, Finale

It was so wrong. It was so right. Harvey groped Francine’s magnificent body, rubbing at her curves, taking in her perfect flowing lines. Her cleavage was open and enticing to him, and she pulled him into it, pressed his face against her large, round, double-D breasts. It felt like heaven; how could anything so wonderful be wrong? She knew she shouldn’t enjoy the sensation of this tall, sexy man motorboating her big titties, but in this moment she giggled in her high, sweet voice.

“Ohhh . . . that feels so nice!”

“Goddamn, you are so good looking,” Harvey said, pulling his face up. He planted his lips against hers, and she shivered at the wonderful sensations it brought her, the wet tender touch of his mouth making her wet elsewhere. She wrapped her arms around his neck in the classic submissive pose, yielding to him as he reached a hand upwards and expertly undid another button. Her bra was tight on her breasts, and it took little manoeuvring for him to pull at the the large cup and begin fondling her sensitive areola, her erogenous nipple.

“Aaaaahh . . . that’s amazing, why is it so - OH! - so amazing!?”

Harvey smiled, enjoying the way this woman was putty in his hands. Francine could see from his expression that she must have been more needy, more lusty, more insatiably horny than any woman he’d ever been with to produce that beaming grin. She knew she shouldn’t be making out with him, her own damn male employee! But he felt so good, and his hardness against her belly was starting to make her drench her panties.

“In me! I want you in me! Please!”

Harvey’s eyebrows raised, and he stopped for a moment. The lack of stimulation of her ‘big boobies’, as she was starting to think of them, was equivalent to torture. She needed a strong, tough man to grope and squeeze them.

“Are - are you sure? Right here? The office staff might use this room . . .”

“Then, like, lock it!”

But again Harvey was not certain. “What if someone knocks?”

She squirmed with need. Her pussy was thirsty for his cock, for his touch. She needed to be filled. It was humiliating and shameful. Francis Howard would never allow himself to be fucked by an employee, but right now, Francine woldn’t just let herself get fucked, she’d be on the ground begging for it. Which she was.

“That’s part of the risk, baby.” She decided on a lie, pulling herself up from the ground a little so that her breasts bobbed, her mussed-up bra and open shirt only enhancing her sexiness. “I’ve been so horny ever since I got here, Harvey. I just can’t help it. I want to help with morale, you’re all so wound up tight. I need to loosen you all up.” She slowly slid her fingers up his leg, until they rested on his firm cock. God, it was large. Larger than Francis’ when he’d been a man. How could he have been packing this howitzer of a gun all this time? Still, her jealousy was nothing compared to her desire to be filled. To be dominated. She batted her long eyelashes suggestively, just like she’d seen hot chicks do in movies, and pursed her lips in a sexy red pout.

“I want you to be the first one in the office to fuck me, Harvey. Let me be your sexy office bimbo. I want you first.”

“Well, how can I say no to that?”

Francine couldn’t help but grin as the handsome man quickly locked the door, and moved back to the hot blonde buxom bimbo on the carpet. She was a sight, she knew, with her pencil skirt and stockinged legs, and her shirt open to reveal to half-spheres, the remainder of her globes just barely hidden by the sides of the shirt. It didn’t take long for Harvey to sort that out.

“God, you’ve got a perfect rack.”

She smirked. Comments like that, and Clara’s oft-stated jealousy of them, made her feel strangely proud of her large, round breasts. They were a bother, and men didn’t look her in the eyes anymore, but they had a hypnotic power in this moment, and soon Harvey was upon her, sucking at her large nipples and making her squirm anew.

“Need you - ahahh - in m-me!” she moaned.

“Not on the carpet,” he grunted, nibbling at her nipples and squeezing her tit hard in a way that was both painful and pleasurable at once. “Carpet burns.”

She looked up, and saw the perfect option.

“The photocopier. Do me on it. I need you to fuck me!”

With surprising strength, Harvey lifted her up. She turned and in a flash of movement tossed the piles of paper from the copier, allowing him to hoist her up on it. She splayed out her legs, her height perfectly situated for that large bulge in his pants.

“Holy shit, I like you a lot more than Francis. Can we keep you?”

“You have no idea how funny that is,” she said, before posing by sticking her chest out, and spreading her legs wider. She scooched herself forwards as they embraced, allowing him to grope and squeeze her breasts as she unzipped his pants. She gasped as his dick was freed; it was huge! How would it ever fit inside her? The thought disgusted her, but it also enticed her far more. The stupid female side of her brain was making her take bad decisions, and Francis knew it; his voice was deep in her conscience, screaming at her to stop. But Francis had needs, strong sexual urges that required fulfilment.

“Oh my,” she said, licking her lips, “will that even fit?”

“We can find out.”

She giggled like a silly girl, and laid back, pulling her panties to one side to expose her dripping wet vagina. And with that opening, Harvey grabbed her sweet tush, and pressed his hardness against her. His penishead wetted itself on her pussy juicy, sending her moaning as little pulses of pleasure coursed through her being.

“Stop fucking around and fuck me already! That’s your boss giving you an order!”

“I like these deadlines a lot better,” Harvey said, and before Francine could groan at the pun she was sent groaning in agony. He thrust deep, and she arced her back, unbelieving how much his penis filled her. It pushed aside the walls of her vagina, ramming up into her depths, making her slick with passion. She pressed her hands against the wall for purchase as his length reached its zenith, thankfully just shy of her cervix, but far enough that she felt as if she were being speared. It was slightly painful. It was immensely pleasurable.

But not as much as when he began to slide out.

And back in.

And back out.

And in.

And out.

Again and again

Francine held on tight for dear life as she was fucked. She had fucked before; she had been the fucker. The alpha male. The dominant one. The penetrator. But had never been fucked. Never at the mercy of a man to whom she yielded her body to completely.

It was goddamn amazing. Her tits bounced with each aggressive thrust, and she began playing with them, squeezing one as he squeezed the other. Several times he leaned forward while thrust, driving his dick somehow even deeper, as they kissed passionately, their tongues dancing in each other’s mouths. She was submissive to him, her own employee, and not even the voice of Francis could reach her now, as each pounding of his dick inside her brought her ectasy ever higher.

“Fuck! This feels so g-good! Nnhhhn! Aaahh! Oohhhoohhh!”

Harvey, for his part, barely said anything. “I’m gonna come! I think I’m gonna come!”

“Do it! Fuck me like I’m your naughty bitch!”

Her beautiful blue eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what she’d just said. But even as she said it, her body tensed, and so did his. Words became impossible, and she stuttered, her first ever set of female orgasms rocking her core. She squeezed him with her perfect thighs as he came inside of her, his warm cum shooting deep into her depths.

“Fffffffuuuuuuuuuu-”

And then she was cut off, her voice trailing into silence as she held on once more for dear life, clutching him with all her weak, womanly strength. He grunted as he pulsed, throbbed inside of her. And then he was spent, and so was she too.

“That . . . was the best sex I’ve ever had,” Harvey said.

She gave him a cute smile. She knew it was cute, and there was an odd power in delivering it. As if she were twisting this cute hunk of a man around her finger. So different from being a regular office manager, and yet it seemed to hold its own sway.

“Me too, Harvey. Me too. Let’s do this again, sometime.”

***

They did. Several times, in fact. But it wasn’t just Harvey she showed off for; it was everyone. Francine soon realised that the floodgates of her new bimbo nature had opened, and there was no way to close them again. Her nymphomania was rampant; she needed sex at least three times a day, and her nightly masturbation sessions were not enough. After her first bout with Harvey she took a trip to the chemist and immediately stocked up on birth control pills and contraception; female and male, to make sure no ‘accidents’ happened.

She spent much of that first day trying to deny this nature. The sex with Harvey had been mindblowing, but she tried to leave the room in dignity, her hair put back in its place, her breasts comfortably snug back in their cups, her shirt fixed up. But even as she walked sexily back to her office, something had changed in the nature of the office, and the staff could tell. Perhaps it was the way she smiled at Harvey just a little too knowingly, or how she leaned even closer over the computer wing staff, even letting her breasts touch their shoulders as she leaned over them. Or perhaps it was how her skirts became just that little bit shorter, her tops that little bit tighter, her hips swayed just that little bit more. More than once, Francine dropped a clipboard and papers she was carrying, just so she could bend over, and allow the men behind her to observe and take in her amazing ass. She would wiggle it a little, just for them, pretending to have to do so in order to grab her material. And then she would straighten her back, turn her head, tousling her perfect blonde hair, and giggle sweetly.

“Oh, hi boys!”

It was fun, it was empowering, and she found herself able to give in to it because it was temporary. Dr Greene assured her that things were coming together; the various parts they had ordered had arrived, and the gene-sequencer was being assembled as they spoke. It lifted her spirits; soon she would be out from under Clara’s grip, and she could be a man again. Having sex with Harvey those couple of times, showing off her perfect bimbo body in front of the office, all to that woman’s amusement? It would be over. Just a memory. A fun memory, sure, but he’d be an alpha again. And then he could rise to the top and have all the bimbos he wanted, because he’d be the one drowning in pussy, instead of offering it freely to others.

And then the delay happened.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s not happening tomorrow? You said I’d be a man again Greene!”

‘I know that,’ the voice tittered over the phone, ‘but we have to make sure we do everything right. Just one more week, Francis. You just have to hang in there.’

She twirled a length of her blonde hair, overcome with rage. “Are you sure? Can’t I, like, do something for you to make it go faster? To keep you focused?”

‘I don’t quite follow, sir.’

“You know, something to keep you all focused and the like. Something real nice.”

What the fuck was he saying? The man was in his sixties!

‘No, no more money is necessary, Mr Howard. Just time. We are so close. It’s just a small delay.’

Francine hung up, and threw her phone on the ground. She was devastated, she was angry. She was horny. It irritated her that she was horny most of all; if she had to deal with Lumin’s Syndrome why did it have to make her such a stupid nympho? Her father would be ashamed, and she was just lucky she’d been careful up to now. It was in the morning, before work, but she was angry and depressed enough about staying as a flirty bimbo employer, that she cracked open the fridge, and grabbed a couple of beers.

“Fuck it,” she said. “Might as well find some way to cope. One week. One damn week.”

***

Four days later, and another three days seemed like an eternity. Francine’s transformation may have finished, but her lusts were seemingly endless, always renewing each day. She had sex a couple more times with Harvey, always in locations where Clara could never see, but his tormentor was obviously suspicious. She saw the increasing flirtiness of Francine’s behaviour, the way she found excuses to undo a button of her bra, or how she gingerly adjusted her chest in full view of a suite of guys.

“What is up with you?” she asked. “Are you actually enjoying this? Is this Lumin’s Syndrome making you into some kind of wannabe slut? Because if so, that is absolutely rich.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s this stupid body and these ridiculous female hormones,” Francine protested, feeling strangely powerless before her ex. “I can’t help but act like a stupid little slut.”

Clara grinned, and it was an expression that made Francine a little worried.

“Well, if you say so. No one has taken your fancy yet? I could introduce you to a few of your lesser known workers, there’s some real studs there.”

Just the thought of it made Francine breathe deeply, causing her large boobs to rise and fall like large globes upon her chest. There were indeed. She’d had a close uniform inspection just that very day.

“No, no, I don’t need that Clara. I’m going to be a man again soon, and you’ll have your promotion and your salary. All the money you want when I’m in the big leagues.”

“Good, I’m happy about that. But I won’t lie, Francine, I’ll miss this new you. She’s a lot more fun. If you ever feel up for it, we can head out for a drink sometime. I hate Francis’ guts and all those Howard types, but I don’t think we need to hate each other.”

“I’m going to be a Howard again,” Francine replied curtly, though both could tell she didn’t look confident about that. And worse, a small part of her didn’t want to be. She’d been so damn free as Francine, free to express herself, free to be silly and flirty and even shallow, and people actually liked her!

“Well, that’s a shame,” Clara said. “I think Francine has done some real wonders for morale around here, even if it’s a little 1950’s.”

She smiled, and it struck Francine that it was an earnest smile.

***

It was after the office had closed, and Francine had to stay back to make some reports. It was a difficult thing; her increasingly sex-kitten mind got distracted by typing ‘Hot Beach Boys’ on the internet, or fantasising about the men in the office. But it still needed doing, and she wasn’t intellectually impaired; it was just a pain. So, slower than usual, she input the files, shot them off to management, and got her things together and left. She definitely felt like watching another stupid medial soap opera. They were strangely addicting; how had she never realised how entertaining and gripping they were when she was Francis?

She was just on her way, looking forward to getting in her sexy lingeries beneath a bathrobe and pleasuring herself to the sight of the show’s leading man, when she noticed a light was on in the graphic design room. Curious, she stepped around the corner. It was Elijah.

The nerdy man was slumped over his computer, a coffee steaming in front of him, and looking dead tired. Her heart ached; she’d never felt sorry for him before, but something about her feminine nature seemed to make him sympathetic in her eyes.

And oddly cute. Like a big sexy teddy bear, with enough meat on his bones to make him comfy and protective. She tapped a pen against her lips, and stepped closer.

“Hey Elijah,” she said.

He turned in surprise. “Oh, hey boss. I didn’t, uh, realise you were still here.”

“Watcha doing?”

He gestured to the computer, but his eyes were drawn to her prominent cleavage. “Um, I was working to meet deadlines. I had to - um, I had to stay late.”

“Aww, I’m really sorry about that.” She sauntered closer, feasting her eyes on the hard bulge in his pants.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m almost done.”

She kneeled down, facing him. God, she was hot for him. It was fucked up, but she needed it. The leading man was forgotten, this man was who she wanted.

“You look stressed? Would you like me to calm you down? Make you feel good?”

“Um . . . what do you mean by that?”

His dick was straining against his pants, and he was nervously looking around, unsure what was happening. Her breasts were even with his line of view, and she knew it. She wiggled her shoulders, allowing them to wobbe heavily, almost bulging out of their cups.

“I think you know what I mean, Elijah. Why don’t you let me suck your big, fat cock, and that’ll make you feel nice and relaxed?”

His eyes bulged, briefly.

“Is this a joke?”

But she was already moving down, unbuckling his pants.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit I can’t believe this is happening.”

She freed his dick, minding his round belly, and began to tease it even firmer with her hands. It was a nice cock, not as big as Harvey’s, but perfectly sized to fit in her mouth. She gave it a light peck on the head, and he stiffened.

“Trust me Elijah, I can’t believe this is happening either.”

And with that, she took his girth inside her, and began to suck away. Elijah moaned as she filled her mouth, pressing his penis head almost to her throat. It tasted wonderful, and she bobbed her head up and down, stroking the thick shaft with her dainty hand, causing him to groan. It was a wonderful groan, and it felt wonderful to be the one to make him do it. Empowering. Again, that feeling of power through submissiveness, like being a slutty bimbo had its own dominance factor. She was a shark hunting other sharks, looking for a good fucking lay. She grabbed his hands, pulling them down to fondle at her breasts. He did so readily, gasping in disbelief as his boss gave him the best blowjob of his life. She moaned on his cock as he played with her sensitive nipples, and the pleasure built up and up until she was crying out for relief. But she needed him to come first.

It didn’t take long. He squeezed her tits hard, and his jizz erupted from his hard member and flooded her mouth, pouring down her throat. It was delicious, and she suckled at his cock, drinking deep of his fluid and then lapping up the rest. Just eating his cum made her cum, and she shivered in enjoyment.

“Mmhhmhm . . . that was nice, Elijah.”

“Oh God, Francine, that was . . . that was amazing!”

“Mmhm, wasn’t it?”

It was then that they both looked up, the jangle of keys from a third individual approaching. Francine’s eyes widened in horror as Clara rounded the corner, holding a purse.

“Sorry Elijah, it’s just me. I left my keys and had to come back for - Elijah? Francine?’

Francine’s world came crashing down, and she turned beet-red at Clara’s expression of shock, which was mixed with an astonished kind of amusement. Elijah’s cock was still on full display, and a small glob of semen was still at the corner of Francine’s mouth. Clara couldn’t have walked in on a more incriminating moment if she tried. Clearly, she didn’t realise how far Francine had fallen. Francine didn’t realise how far Francine had fallen. All her shame and humiliation returned, a post-coital realisation of ‘what the actual fuck is wrong with me?’

She got up, buttoning up her top. Clara was saying something, asking questions, and Elijah was hurriedly buckling up his pants and streaming apologies. But Francine was already speeding past, practically running in her red high heels and heading down the stairs. She’d just fucked Elijah. Elijah! She needed out of this body, she needed to be a man again. She had become a damned nymphomaniac, and if she didn’t turn back now, she’d be lost!

Francine ran out into the street, got in her car, and took off. She headed to Dr Greene’s clinic, towards his experiment.

“I’m turning back tonight, or not at all,” she declared, tears streaming down her cheeks.

***

Francine practically burst through the door, pushing past protesting nurses and assistants alike. She made her way straight to Dr Greene’s laboratory, large breasts bouncing in her top, high heels making her ass shift from side to side in a sexy manner, despite her fury. She had enjoyed sucking Elijah’s cock so damn much; it had tasted so good! She could still feel his sweet cum in her mouth, and part of her was already craving more. But now Clara had seen her, and just the realisation of how far she had fallen had been enough to send Francine chasing down the endlessly delaying doctor. She was paying him good money, dammit, she demanded to see results!

“Um, Ma’am, you have no right to be here!”

“I’m, like, the one paying you, you moron!” she declared, pushing through the door to the lab. Dr Greene stood there, looking over some chamber that was evidently meant to house a human being, attached to various wires, cords, and drip-feeds. It looked like a science fiction setting, and briefly made Francine pause. Dr Green looked up in confusion.

“Mr Howard, are you alright? I told you over the phone that we’ve hit some delays on the programming. Everything is probably in order, but just in case -”

“I don’t have time!” she declared, her voice high and bimbo-ish in quality. She strutted forward in heels and gestured to her voluptuous body. “Look at me, doc! I’m turning into, like, a stupid bimbo or something. My brain keeps thinking about sucking cock, or taking it, and I get wet just standing around men too long - even old men like you!”

Dr Greene’s eyes widened, and she paused, blushing heavily. She hadn’t meant to give all that away. It was just one more sign of how much Lumin’s Syndrome had changed her into some submissive office bitch. Francine curled her painted nails into her palms.

“Do you see? This is what I have to put up with! It’s changing my fucking mind doc. I don’t have any more time. If I have to wait any longer I’ll be the damn joke of the office. Me! Francis fucking Howard!”

The world was turning red, it was like a blood vessel was about to burst. Dr Greene backed up a step. “I understand your concern Francine - I mean Francis! You’ve been through a lot, and I can’t imagine what’s it’s been like to -”

“No! You, like, can’t imagine it dude! I’ve lost my cock, I’ve grown Double-D tits that everyone stares at! I can’t stop walking like I’m trying to show off this cute bubblebut ass. And its turning me fucking gay - or straight, or whatever. Or bi, maybe. Some of the girls in the office . . . see? See the thoughts that get me all fucking distracted! We’re running this machine now!”

Dr Greene’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “What, tonight?

“Damn right it has to be tonight, or else I’m gonna end up even more embarrassed than I was tonight. I’m getting fucking blackmailed, doc, and my own father wants nothing to do with me while I’ve got the body of a buxom blonde office bimbo.”

Dr Greene looked from Francine, to the machine, and back to Francine again. “Miss - Mr Howard, the machine in theory will work, and should cure your Lumin’s Syndrome. But we haven’t run a full diagnostic. I must caution patience -”

She leapt forward and grabbed him by his collars, pulling him close. Francine had been significantly shortened as her body became female, but she was at least taller than this man. She gritted her teeth, trying to resist the urge to kiss this cute older nerdy scientist, and instead focused her rage and indignation on him.

“I’m out of patience. We. Use. The. Machine. Now.”

Greene gulped, and it was clear in his eyes that he knew he wasn’t going to win this fight. “Very well, Mr Howard. But I want you to sign a medical statement that you chose to proceed with this medical risk by your own free will, against the protestations of your doctor. Then I will run it.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Like, just give me a pen already.”

***

Francine stepped into the chamber. Various IV tubes were plugged into her wrists, and she winced a little at the pain, more sensitive to it than she would have been as a man.

“Ouch! Watch it!” she complained to one technician.

“Oh, sorry.”

She rolled her eyes. She was so close. So damn close to being a man again. Would she miss being a woman? Maybe some parts of it. She couldn’t deny that the sex actually was better, or that she didn’t love accessorising, or having that male gaze upon her. There was something powerful about being submissive, about putting others’ needs above your own; people became putty in your hands in an altogether different way than if you were a total alpha male, but it was power nonetheless. And there was a freedom to it, a lack of need to control everything, to use everyone. Some part of her, she knew, would miss being the hot office gal simply because people actually liked her. Sex or no sex, morale and performance had actually improved while she had been there, and it was something Francine could deny. She’d felt the way the boys all perked up at her presence, and even some of the women too; something about having a girl compliment their looks and give them support instead of tongue-lashings made them more amenable to reaching deadlines.

“I’ll get over it,” she whispered to herself.

“What was that, Mr Howard?” Dr Greene asked, as he fitted the final component.

“Um, like, nothing. When can this thing get started? I want to be a man again. I can’t be an alpha male if I’m not male.”

“Any moment now, just need to run one final check. All systems are good, Mr Howard. Are you sure though, that you want to do this? We can have all diagnostics run in just a few days, and it might be safer?”

Francine considered this. It would be safer. But then what kind of trouble would she be getting up to by then? Clara had seen her sucking Elijah’s cock. There was no coming back from that unless she asserted male dominance again. Then Clara would have nothing.

“Just hurry up and fucking do it,” she snapped, trembling enough that her boobs wobbled in her DD-cup bra. “It’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?”

Dr Greene nodded, his brow creased. He moved back to a computer panel.

“Initialising sequence. The system will flood your body with testosterone in concentrated amounts, using your own DNA patterns. This should trigger a response from your body’s immune system to recognise that it has developed incorrectly, and the massive amounts of Y chromosomes can be adapted back into your system.”

“I don’t know what that means, but so long as it, like, works, I’m good. Hit the red button.”

The doctor hit the ENTER button on his keyboard, and suddenly the system powered up. The chamber that Francine was strapped into began to glow, numerous lights turning on. She felt quite warm, and there was a nervousness building in her system.

“This is just to get your body prepared,” the doctor explained. “The hormones will be coming any moment now.”

Francine looked down and saw that chemicals were flooding in from the IV tubes and into her system. She grit her teeth as she felt it enter her bloodstream, and a strange euphoria overtook her. A surge of adrenaline seemed to slow down time, ever blink seeming to take longer than it should have. She breathed heavily, her large chest heaving, as more and more testosterone and male genetic material was poured into her body.

“Oohh . . . G-God! I c-can feel my b-body fighting it! It’s, like, really weird doc!”

Dr Green adjusted a dial. “I’m upping the dosage. It must be triggering a more powerful autoimmune response than expected.

More hormones poured into her body, spiralling into her bloodstream and pumped through her veins. Despite herself, Francine couldn’t help but gasp and moan, her voice sounding unintentionally erotic. Her nipples hardened, her pussy became wet, as the arousal continued. It was like she was being penetrated by a man on the deepest level; testosterone mingling with her estrogen and causing sparks of electric energy to hum through her body. She bit her lip, trying to avoid further sounds, but more and more of it coursed into her system, and she let out a wail.

“AAHHHHH! OH - NGGGGHH!”

She began to shift her hips, feeling overcome by it all, and she closed her eyes, imagining that she was being banged by a hot office worker. By Harvey. He had her pinned against a desk, and was pumping into her like there was no tomorrow, between her widespread stockinged thighs.

“Wait! Something’s wrong!” yelled Dr Greene, over the increasing groaning and shuddering of the machine. “Your immune response is strengthening! It’s like your resistance to changing back is growing.”

“What!?” Francine snapped her eyes open, her heart beating in terror. “How could that happen?”

“It’s your physical arousal!” Greene called across the room. “It’s upping your estrogen flow, and causing a push back against the hormones. It’s . . . my God, it’s actually solidifying your change!”

“Fuck! What - what do I - mmhhm! - what do I do?”

“You need to stop the arousal. Try to avoid being - well, turned on, Mr Howard!”

More and more male chemicals were entering her, causing her sex to throw between her legs, wanting to be filled. She couldn’t keep the image of Harvey out of her head. Or Elijah. Or the other boys. Or hell, even Clara and some of the beautiful office gals. She grabbed her head with her hands, trying to avoid ripping out the IV tubes, and tried to focus on being a man again.

But even the word man was enough to send her thoughts flying back to the subject of being pounded. She imagined having another go on Elijah, riding him comfortably, or being banged against the printer, taken from behind like the good little slut that she was. She groaned, taking in these images, and she began to drip pussy juices down her thighs, wanting them to be real.

“Mmmhhmm . . . yes - ah ahhh ahhhh! I want that!”

“Mr Howard! You need to stop! Think of something else!”

She began rubbing her round tits, and to her astonishment, she felt them rise like dough, growing up another cup size as her body not only fought back against her maleness, but increased its femininity as a defence mechanism. They swelled out of their cups, becoming magnificent E-cups, the size of cantaloupes, and her hips followed, widening to become real baby-makers and causing her ass to round out even further. Her waist cinched in a little more, and her hair bloomed down her shoulders, reaching the small of her back after several moments. She moaned, lips becoming fuller, and despite her fear of what was happening, her want to be a man again, she couldn’t help but imagine how wonderfully erotic it was to have a perfect set of DSL’s: Dick Sucking Lips.

Doctor Greene’s voice cut through her imaginings. “Please, Mr Howard, there is still a chance to revert! But if we fail here, you’ll be stuck female for life, even more so than you were! Please, calm yourself!”

But Francine was lost in bliss. She didn’t want to be an alpha wolf in this moment. She didn’t want to be a shark. She wanted to be a bad bitch. She wanted to be a buxom bimbo. She wanted to be a hot piece of ass that not only raised morale, but all the little flagpoles in all the pants of all the men in the office. It was like feeding an addiction; she knew it was wrong, but turned on as she was, she just couldn’t help herself. She wanted to be Francine.

“I - I can’t! I just. Want. To. Get. Fucked. So. Muuuuuuch! AAiiiiiihhh!”

She wailed in pleasure, even as something in the machine broke, and Dr Greene yelled. When the orgasm came, it was stronger than any that came before, and lasted what felt like several minutes. She came close to blacking out.

It was only after it finished, that she opened her eyes, realising her breasts had popped open yet another shirt. She felt weird, and even a little sillier. A little girlier. Certainly a lot curvier. She clutched her head, stepping forward awkwardly, her womanly hips swaying from side to side as she exited the chamber. Dr Greene stood there, a look of sadness and despair upon his face.

“Like, what happened?” she said.

“I think . . . I think you just signed your fate, Miss Howard.”

It came to her in a rush, the full revelation of what she’d just done.

“Oh . . . oh fuck.”

Employee of the Month: Epilogue

The office had gathered for their monthly meeting. Harvey was there, so was Elijah. Both looked far less stressed now that the deadlines had been met, the product marketed, and the next major project was further down the line, with a more manageable timeframe. In just three months, the marketing department had gone from being the most depressed and demoralised department in Howard Enterprises, to being their most trusted, reliable, and efficient division. And part of that was thanks to their new manager, who entered at that very moment, dressed in a professional pencil skirt and light jacket.

“Well, everyone, I’m very impressed with the work so far, so I won’t make this meeting too long. Harvey, where are we at with the ad development?”

“Nearly finished; we should be right to go by Tuesday,” he answered.

“Excellent work. And Elijah, how is the website coming along?”

“Already finished ahead of schedule, I’m just waiting on permission to connect it to our broader network and it’ll be up.”

“Angling for a nice bonus, I see. Rachel, what are the polls telling us?”

The new girl who was interning, serving in the spot Clara once filled, immediately perked up. She had been given more responsibility than she’d assumed she would get, and it thrilled her to know she was trusted so much. It was a good feature of her manager.

“Everyone is excited, Clara. We’re seeing numbers in the low eightieth percentile, far above normal market reactions.”

Clara grinned, ticking the last point off of her clipboard. She smiled, enjoying the energy of the room and the satisfaction that came with running a well-oiled show. Ever since her promotion nearly three months ago, partly due to her own manoeuvring, she had tried her best to develop a managerial style that was kind, compassionate, but ruthlessly efficient. She certainly wasn’t out to be another Francis fucking Howard, nor was she intent on being seen as the bimbo. After all, the office already had one of those. Which, speaking of . . .

“Well, everyone, that’s the meeting over, except for an important announcement. A little over three months ago, we were joined by a new gal in the office. Of course, what only a few of us knew at the time was that this new gal had just recently been a familiar guy to all of us. Francis Howard’s reputation has been . . . mixed, to say the least, but we all latched onto Francine Robbins pretty quickly; some more literally than others.”

There was a titter of laughter across the room.

“But despite her flaunting of the dress code, and her sometimes ‘overenthusiastic’ approach to lifting our spirits - among other things - Francine has proven herself to be capable of turning over a new leaf and becoming a new woman. And so, due to her endless work serving and, yes, servicing the various members of staff in her role as Morale Officer, I hereby award Francine Robbins the much-vaunted Employee of the Month Award!”

A cheer went up from the assembled personnel, particularly from the male group, as an incredibly attractive blonde shuffled forward. One hand reached out and groped her tush, causing her to giggle and blush even harder than she already was. Francine’s work uniform could barely contain her; she now regularly wore tight button tops with at least the top three buttons undone, and her dark bras were almost always visible, though even they struggled to contain her magnificent breasts. She waltzed forward on high red heels, her ass swaying hypnotically from side to side, her hourglass figure fully on display thanks to her tight clothing. She was a sight to every eye, even for a few of the women, and despite her still ongoing embarrassment, Francine couldn’t help but revel in the way they stared at her various curves and mounds. She was, after all, one of the hottest women to walk the earth, and there was no going back from it now. She was trapped in this form until the end of her days.

She moved up beside Clara, still a little shorter than her, and placed her hands behind her back, subconsciously posing so that her impressive rack strained at her top, causing her mammaries to heave up with every breath. Her long blonde hair swished with her movement, and she adjusted her glasses: they weren’t necessary, but they did make her look even sexier in an office environment.

“Congratulations, Francine! How do you feel?”

Francine stood before the crowd. Each of them knew her past, though officially she was Francine Robbins, new girl from out of state. After all, Percy Howard couldn’t tolerate having such ridiculous bimbo as his son; to the rest of the world, Francis had died unexpectedly from a mysterious disease, and anyone who said otherwise was paid off. Which left Francine without a fortune, without an empire, and without much job prospects. Thankfully, Clara had seen her humiliation as enough, and after a carefully crafted email allowed Clara to take over, Francine was then given the role of Morale Officer, with particular attention paid to the single men who worked so hard.

It had been a gruelling initial first month. She had been overwhelmed with desperation to be a man again, even as her ludicrous libido came back stronger than ever. Her intelligence was not reduced, thankfully, but she often found herself adding ‘like’ or ‘totes’ to a sentence, or getting giggly over silly things. But most of all, she hungered for cock; for its to be in her hands, in her mouth, in her pussy. And as the days turned to months, she found that despite her occasional moment of embarrassment, the little side-eyes from the men who knew her past life, and the hints of amusement from Clara, her life really was more enjoyable. The sex was better and more constant. People actually liked her. And, of course, she was free of a toxic family and allowed to live her own life, even if said life was entirely themed around looking and acting sexy, and being the bimbo plaything of the office.

“Francine, hello? Earth to Francine? Can you hear us?”

The hot blonde blinked back to reality, and giggled in her high, feminine voice.

“Oh, sorry everyone! I like, totes zoned out there!”

There was a gentle laughter from the crowd. They were used to this from her. And judging from how she’d just been sucking on the end of a pen, they each had a good idea what she was thinking about.

“So, how do you feel, Francine?”

“I feel really great. So great! Thanks everyone for this award. I’m gonna do my best to try and win it every month!”

A cheer went up again, and Francine couldn't help but smile, thrusting out her chest a little more as she placed her hands on her wider hips. She did feel amazing, and what’s more, she was starting to feel a little horny, again. Well, she was always horny. More horny than a moment ago, would be a better way of putting it. She raised her pen back to her mouth and perused the line of men clapping for her, until she singled out a new guy - Geoff - who hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her yet.

“Okay everyone, time to get back to work!” Clara announced.

The crowd dispersed, heading back to work, but Francine began walking sensually over to the new guy. Clara gave her a little wink that put some blush to her cheeks, but when she felt the heat between her legs, Francine didn’t feel as embarrassed by her new boss’s teasing. She approached the short newbie, putting an extra swing to her step, and leaning over a little at his cubicle so that her full, ripe melons were nearly on full display. Slowly, she lowered her glasses, making sure to pout her full lips to appear extra hot to him.

“So, like, you’re the new guy, right?”

The man’s eyes were glued to her canyon of cleavage. “Um, yeah. Hi. I’m Geoff.”

“Francine,” she purred, full of need. She could see from the man’s face that she had a power of him already, and she pushed it further, by drawing closer, her large boobs almost in his face. “I’m to conduct a moral review for you. Privately. Trust me, I think you’re going to like it.”

She grinned, lidding her eyes in just such a way that made her look needy, which, really, she was.

“Uh, right now?” the man said, trying to avoid the obvious tenting in his pants. She licked her lips at the sight of it.

“Mmhhm, right now. Come with me.”

She turned, letting him take in the sight of her perfect ass shifting in her tight skirt. She didn’t have to turn to know his gaze was hovering on it; she had a sort of ‘hot woman’s second sight’ for that, and it always made her feel good. Geoff walked behind her as she led the way to a private booth. It was decently sound-proofed, and though occasionally a passerby might see a very obvious silhouette of a curvaceous woman copulating with one of the male staff, it was simply a regular part of the office day by now, as Geoff would soon learn.

Francine grinned as she directed him in and closed the door. She didn’t know what position they would take - cowgirl? Missionary? Doggy? - or how many times they would do it. All she knew was that her pussy was both wet and on fire, and she couldn’t wait for this man to sate her sexual appetite. There was a power to being the submissive office bimbo, after all, and it was a power that was oddly familiar to her.

It was, in its own way, like being a shark among minnows.

And she’d just caught her next meal.

The End