The Futa Pill: You and Miranda Come with Ms. Kato (Patreon)

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You hastily shove down your skirt, trying to cover your girl-dick fresh from Miranda's asshole. You feel like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Your cheeks burn. Even the tips of your rears blaze as you force your skirt over your softening skirt.

Ms. Kato whirls on her heels and marches with the precision of a soldier with the sway of a geisha. You swallow and glance at Miranda. Her cheeks are as red as yours. She has her dark-purple skirt shifted down over her hips, but some of your cum is gleaming on your thighs.

You'd fucked her in the pussy and the asshole in succession.

Your feet feel like lead as she steps off the elevator, head bowed. You and Miranda trudge after Ms. Kato in her tight, gray pencil skirt. Her brown nylons have that dark stripe down the back of her legs, both seams perfectly centered. She marches on her five-inch heels, the points sharp.

You tremble, knowing this is it. You're fired. That's the end of your job. You march past the cubicles, including your own. Not long ago, you'd taken the futa pill in there in a misguided attempt to escape Paris's domination.

Your friend, Cassie, peers out of her cubicle at you, eyes full of questions.

Guilty, you look away from her inquisitive, blue eyes. You feel her staring at you as your shoulders hunch even more. The pressure around your heart constricts with every step. You lick your lips, wanting to melt away.

You round the corner and spot your rival. The redheaded Paris, her green eyes lighting up in amusement, watches you as you slink past. Her large breasts swell her low-cut top. Your humiliation increases.

“You should have gotten that coffee like I ordered,” Paris hissed.

Ms. Kato stopped. She didn't even look behind her as she said. “You have work to attend to, Ms. Richardson.”

“Yes, Ms. Kato,” Paris gasps, the blood draining from her cheeks. Then she scurries off.

On any other day, that would have given you such a rush. Such an exhilaration to know that your rival—that fucking bitch—had been put in your place. Now, what does it matter? She's still going to be working here while you'll be browsing for a new job on LinkedIn.

Ms. Kato opened her office door and sweeps in, standing beside it. Her slanted eyes are on you. Even though you're taller than the Japanese ice queen by a few inches, she feels like a giant. She looms as you slink in, shoulders hunched even tighter.

Miranda whimpers.

The door closes with a savage boom. The lock clicks next. The sound makes your heart skip a beat.

“Strip,” Ms. Kato orders, her voice colder than Antarctica. “Now.”

You blink at that. Beside you, Miranda's already leaping into action, unbuttoning her blouse with shaking fingers. Ms. Kato moves before you, face as smooth as marble, eyes harder than diamonds. You tremble.

She doesn't have the right to order you to strip. She can demote you. Fire you. Take away benefits. But she can't order you to get naked.

However, the look in her eye... You want to obey her. Your hands tremble.

What do you choose?

Do you follow Miranda's example and strip naked for Ms. Kato? 

Do you disobey Ms. Kato's order to strip naked?