The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

THE FANTASTIC MS. FOX

Mr. Anderson stood in his office at the large window, watching the city skyline with interest. His client, a tall and dark man named Vikram, stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes scanning the shape of the Heffron Energy Inc. tower just two blocks away.

“You’re sure this will work?” Vikram asked, turning to Mr. Anderson, who in reply merely grinned and emitted a faint chuckle.

“Just watch.”

A flock of animals congregating on the radio mast of a nearby tower scattered, peeling off into the air in a spiralling ribbon of wings and gnashing teeth. They flew above the city block to the Heffron Energy building and swirled down around the windows of the upper floor. Peering through his binoculars, Mr. Anderson made out what looked like a figure at one of those windows waving a large broom.

“Quite impressive.” Vikram nodded. “Your own design?”

“No.” Mr. Anderson admitted. “We had a few bad people from the Autonomous Holographics department do them up. I did, however, pass on your preferences to them. They did quite well, don’t you agree?”

“I especially like the claws.” Vikram observed, eyes straining to keep pace with the flock.

“Not too long?”

“No. Just right, I think.” Vikram nodded, “Though I never imagined they’d be so hairy.”

“The lead designer is a Wizard of Oz fan. I’ve been told she launched them with a ‘Fly, my pretties, fly!’”

“Flying monkeys...” Vikram remarked with awe. “It’s perfect. They’ll think Thompson has gone mad.”

“They’ll haunt him until he really does go mad if they don’t get what we want.” Mr. Anderson grinned. He passed the binoculars over to Vikram, who took them eagerly and lifted them to his eyes.

“Look at him,” the dark man laughed, “he’s shaking his fist and shouting at them! He’s not in any danger, is he? A murder might attract too much attention.”

“They’re programmed to damage property, nothing more. Look, there they go!”

Vikram shifted the angle of the binoculars and zeroed in on the flock. Several of the lead monkeys were diving towards Thompson’s open window. The man bolted out of the way as the first of the creatures flew into his office, followed by another, then another. A plume of papers were shortly ejected from the window and carried away on the wind.

“Aha!” Vikram bounced excitedly. “I think he’s got it!”

Mr. Anderson took hold of the binoculars. Sure enough, he could see the hairy, bat-winged form of a monkey corkscrewing out of the window and into the open air. In its claws he noticed the distinct shape of a thick manila envelope.

“Looks like it.” he agreed. “You’ll transfer the funds this afternoon, then?”

“After confirmation of the package’s contents.” Vikram reminded him.

Mr. Anderson walked across his office to the drinks cabinet. He poured out two celebratory whiskies and returned. Vikram shook his head.

“No thanks. Too early.”

“You just attacked a rival with a squad of flying monkeys. You can break another rule.”

Vikram shrugged and took the drink. As one, they clinked glasses and downed their whiskies.

“To destroying the Amazon.” Vikram smiled, relishing the drink’s bite.

“You’re sure Thompson won’t be a further threat?”

“Without that package? No. He’ll never be able to secure the funding to oppose me now. The dam will go ahead. To hell with the natives.”

“I see.” Mr. Anderson frowned. “You know, we have many more products at our disposal. What about governments? Will you be extorting any governments in the near future? What about ransoming a city?”

“I’m going to take it one day at a time.” Vikram replied diplomatically. “I don’t have the thirst for mayhem that you do.”

“What about women?”

“You traffic women?” Vikram asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Nothing so brutish. We prefer a method with a little more... finesse. There is a flourishing Mind Control program on the top floor. Imagine the woman of your dreams, Vikram. She could be yours. If you like, you may sample some of our female staff.”

“I’m thinking of your secretary.” Vikram laughed, putting down his glass. “But perhaps that is for another time. Outsourcing evil is expensive.”

“But still lucrative, my good man. Half of a fortune is still a fortune. And with a thousand bad young minds at our disposal, we’ve taken supervillainous creativity up a notch, don’t you think?”

“I can’t argue with that, but I really must be going. I will confirm the contents of the package with your receiver, then transfer the funds.”

“Very well, then.”

Vikram left, leaving Mr. Anderson to look out his window in silence.

As he looked out upon the city he contemplated the powers at his disposal. It was a shame that Vikram had not sprung for another of his company’s packages; he would have loved to see a railgun or two in action, or perhaps a nude-ray. Surely most villains were attracted to railguns. He was sure the man would have been impressed enough by flying monkeys to purchase another product.

Perhaps Vikram had been suitably impressed but simply too cheap to seize the opportunities that Mr. Anderson’s company could provide. He found it hard to imagine that someone couldn’t be impressed by flying monkeys. There was always a need for evil deeds in the world and, contrary to Vikram’s assessment, Mr. Anderson believed that his firm was up to the task of doing dirty deeds relatively cheap.

He sighed. It always disappointed him when one of his clients failed to appreciate the joy of doing evil. There was just something liberating about give one’s self over to it.

Fucking flying monkeys! Was it not apparent that, in the course of their work, Mr. Anderson and his employees were taking the piss? It was always a hope of his that such glee might be infectious. Mr. Anderson and Co. were out to make money and laugh while doing it.

Evil is should be fun...

Eventually his thoughts turned to his secretary and to the various parts of her body. He thought of the sway of her hips whenever she entered his office. He then recalled the slender lines of her naked back as he thrust himself into her during breaktime, his body slapping repeatedly into her pert bum, her rich moans of encouragement driving him to perform better, faster and longer.

As the cogs in his head continued turning he came upon something. He paced in front of the window, nodding his head and muttering to himself as he cultivated the budding idea to its ultimate conclusion.

At the last he thought of his secretary’s small but well-formed tits bouncing atop her chest as she rode him, his hands sliding up the flanks of her body to cup them.

He thought again of the city, of its population prostrated before him, brought into line by terror.

Horny, giggly, big titted terror...

He backed away from the glass and went to his desk.

“Ms. McCleod, can you please contact Ms. Fox in Mind Control. I want her here in my office in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Anderson.”

“Yes, sir...” Mr. Anderson whispered to himself, walking back to the window. Seeing his reflection he tugged at his suit and stood at attention, suddenly feeling the desire for a fine uniform with lots of medals.

* * *

Life never ceased to surprise Lana, who until a year ago had often wondered what she would do with a million dollars. When Mr. Anderson had approached her with an offer of one million a year in salary, after tax, she would never have imagined doing what that would ask of her.

Walking through the office cubicles on the seventy-fifth floor, she smiled and waved at the employees who had come to think of her as the best thing since sliced bread. Through her efforts alone, Lana had helped turn their boring office jobs into something unique and greatly satisfying. Employee retention was almost total, and conflict among workers was at an all time low. The company had almost become familial. ‘Synergy’, as they liked to call it, was chugging along nicely.

Yet Lana approached Mr. Anderson’s office with a sense of unease.

Things are already going so well... I wonder what he wants to change?

“Mr. Anderson called for me?” She asked, presenting herself at the secretary’s desk.

“He did.” the secretary told her warmly, her smile bordering on reverence.

“Everything okay with you?” Lana asked her, drawing her eyes up and down the woman’s face. She noted with contentment that, although the young woman hadn’t come up to the ‘spa’ for two days, she still bore the look of a woman satisfied with her job in every way.

As she should be.

“Everything’s fine.” the secretary replied with a wink. “Can’t spoil myself everyday, but... maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.” Lana beamed.

“Mr. Anderson is waiting. Please...” the secretary gestured, beckoning Lana to enter his office. She did so, and as she shut the door the VP welcomed her warmly and bid her to sit down.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Lana asked, seating herself in a soft leather arm chair. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Mr. Anderson allayed. “Drink?”

“Just water, please.” she told him. Shortly he handed her a tall glass of water, after which he settled into the chair next to her with a glass of neat whisky.

“Ms. Fox...” he began, “I want to ask you about your program. Do the women remember what they do during their breaks?”

“Yes.” Lana stated, “Every touch, taste, sight and sound.”

“So... when they see the other men around, or talk about their experiences during work hours, they have no idea they’re being influenced, even though they remember what they did with the male employees?”

“More or less.” Lana beamed with pride. “They are convinced that what they are doing is harmless fun.”

“Yet they are so intimate with the men up there. Then they come down here and everything is professional. Don’t the girls recognize that?”

“The brain has an incredible power to overlook things.” Lana explained, smirking and lifting her eyes. “If you were to show the girls images of what they do during their breaks and then show them a porno, they’d be convinced the two scenarios are entirely different, even though to you and I they are completely the same. Consider this—.”

“That’s alright, Ms. Fox.” he said, raising a hand to stop her. “It’s your program, after all. That’s your ball court. I was more interested in the duration of the effect. You say they remember everything.”

“Yes, but the effect is entirely temporary. The boys up there are, in their minds, merely masseurs. Totally legit. After leaving my ‘spa’ they go back to normal.”

“And remember everything.” he repeated pressingly.

“Yes.” she affirmed, briefly wondering what he was getting at. “But as I said—.”

“They go back to normal.”

“Right.”

“I see.” he nodded thoughtfully, sipping from his glass. He glanced over at her chest. “Well, I won’t try to understand it, but the results speak for themselves. I see you’re enjoying your new salary.”

Lana reached up and clasped her diamond pendant, dangling from her neck, tantalizingly close to what would be cleavage if she had any.

“Yes, you’ve been very generous.” she admitted.

“And I intend to go on being generous.” he smiled. “How would you like another raise. Say, one-point-two a year, after tax?”

“I—I would love that!” she puffed, caught a little off guard. The offer had not been what she’d been expecting, but it was a welcome surprise.

“It would be conditional, of course.” he added.

“On what?”

“On whether or not what I ask you can be done, or not.”

“I’m listening.” she replied, swallowing. Feeling dry in the mouth, she took a sip of water.

“Since, as you say, the women remember everything they do while under the influence of your program, would it be possible to implant suggestions during that period that would hold permanently?”

“It’s risky,” Lana answered thoughtfully, thinking it over. “But if done correctly it should work. The suggestions would have to be simple.”

Lana paused reflectively. “But...” she added, “Temporary manipulation is harmless enough. Permanent—.”

“If you have any moral concerns,” Mr. Anderson interrupted, “I suppose I could go up to one-point-three. After tax.”

Lana’s face reddened. She cast him a wounded frown.

“Moral concerns? I’m not sure how to take that.”

“Forgive me.” Mr. Anderson smiled, apologizing with mock magnanimity. “I did not mean to suggest you were a good person.”

Lana nodded her forgiveness, then sat back and pondered the problem.

Permanent suggestions... risky... but could be fun...

“It can be done.” she answered with renewed certainty.

“It’s a deal, then?” he asked her, raising his class.

Lana raised her own with agreement.

“What shall we do first?”

* * *

It had been an unusual yet predictable request.

Mr. Anderson wanted the female staff to believe they wanted—no, needed—to enhance the size of their breasts. It was all logical enough; Mr. Anderson was a tit man.

A local plastic surgeon, also, was Mr. Anderson’s nephew.

Whatever the reason, Lana was only to happy to rise to the challenge. She had worked on this program day in day out for a year and over time it had become an extension of herself.

Originally designed for addiction therapy, Mr. Anderson had provided a far more lucrative venue: running an evil ‘spa’ of sorts on the top floor of the company’s tower. The women entered one way, through her office, then a locker room, then onto a lounge. The men, on the other hand, aware that Lana’s ‘spa’ was really more of a brothel, entered the lounge directly and played with the girls when they came out shaking their money makers.

The ladies were none the wiser, of course. It was all just a matter of convincing them that the stripper pole was a platform on which to stretch their muscles, the erotic dances merely a ‘European’ technique, or some such, and the energetic jackhammering they received from the male employees merely ‘massages’ to loosen them up and stretch them out, all for the purpose of leaving them fresh faced, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed during their nine-to-five.

For the men it was a job perk.

As for Mr. Anderson’s request, several days of contemplation had yielded a beguilingly simple plan to instill a desire for ‘self improvement’ in the female staff. As with many things in the mental realm, the easiest way to one’s destination was to go in exactly the opposite direction.

She planned to give the girls a little shock of disgust, giving her program something to play with. Then Lana would turn their thoughts one-eighty, the application of mental strain causing incredulity to break and the new idea to be accepted. She’d spent the whole morning in preparation, making alterations to her software and planting bait in the women’s change room.

Opening the last locker, she posted the picture of the huge pair of breasts she had cut out from a poster of a popular porn starlet. It was a provocative image and, Lana hoped, just persuasive enough to lure the girls into the trap.

Leaving the locker room, Lana made her way back behind her desk, fingers stroking the diamond encrusted necklace hanging above her breasts. She never got tired of it but, certainly, with the kind of money she was making now, there was always room for more indulgence. Her thoughts turned to the tote bag she had brought in earlier and put away under her computer.

Hmmm, I have a minute of two...

She brought out the tote, its glossy paper shining, marked by the brand of a local fine jeweller, and as she opened the bag the light reflecting off the object inside bathed her face in a pale glow.

You’ve come a long way from advertising executive or addictions counsellor...

* * *

Lana mused on that with a sly grin, pulling out a recently purchased pair of diamond earrings. She could never have afforded such luxury before Mr. Anderson came along.

Money looks good on me... she noted, staring into a small hand held mirror and modelling her new earrings with a flourish of pearly whites.

Once the computer had been re-awakened she made her program ready for the first arrivals.

Before long some of the female staff began trickling in, riding the elevators up from the evil office divisions on the lower floors, eager for a brief respite of pampering before lunch. Mostly regulars, they passed by Lana’s desk with little more than a wave and a smile, which Lana returned with sincerity. One woman, however, caught her eye. A new face.

“Good afternoon.” Lana purred, enticing the young woman to step up to the desk.

“Not so good.” the woman—the girl, really—corrected with a trembling voice. “It’s my first day. I think they’re going to fire me.”

Lana looked the young woman up and down. “How old are you?” she asked.

“Nineteen.” she replied, looking around Lana’s office with furtive glances.

Nineteen... Lana pondered. A secretary? File clerk? Her job can’t be THAT hard, can it?

Whatever, the poor thing needn’t worry...

Like the other female staff, this girl was very attractive, good facial structure often tipping the balance when it came to Mr. Anderson’s hiring method. It was rare, regardless of clumsiness or lack of skill, for the company to let go any of it’s female staff members. That would be like throwing away a perfectly fine cut of meat with a youthfully tight fit. The company was not disposed towards such waste. Even a terribly unskilled beauty was worth her weight in gold, when one accounted for the rise in morale and productivity she could unwittingly provide.

“I wouldn’t worry.” Lana smiled warmly, placing a hand on the young woman’s arm. “You’ll be here for a good long time, I think. The company takes care of its women.”

“So I’ve heard.” the young observed quietly, eyes scanning Lana’s lounge office. “I was going to go out for lunch but... the others insisted I come up here, maybe because I was so tense!” she admitted with nervous laughter.

“Happy employees make good workers. I’m Lana, by the way.”

“Phoebe.” the woman smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Phoebe. Just go right through there and prepare to be amazed.”

“I love makeovers.” the girl breathed, perking up. “Do you do makeovers, too?”

“Oh yes. Full facials.” Lana enthused with a straight face. “Come.” She picked up a key and took Phoebe by the hand.

Lana pulled Phoebe up to the locker room door and pressed the key into her hand.

“This is yours for as long as you work here. And yours alone, got it?” Lana instructed. Phoebe took it with a nod of her head.

“So what do I do?” Phoebe asked with a quiver of trepidation.

“Relax.” Lana insisted with a huff. “You can’t fuck anything up here!” She opened the locker room door, revealing the scene within as other female employees stripped themselves without shame or anxiety. No one had even moved to cover themselves as Lana opened the door.

Moving around behind her newest victim, Lana grasped the girl’s shoulders and gave her a firm kick on the bottom.

“Sounds easy enOUGH!” Phoebe yelped, stumbling forward into the room beyond.

“It is,” Lana confirmed pointedly “Just keep an open mind.”

Phoebe being the last one in, Lana then devoted all of her attention to monitoring her computer.

On screen she had a number of tools at her disposal. Camera surveillance, brain imagers and program modification tabs.

Still a bit twitchy about this but... here goes...

Having posted those pornographic pin-ups in all the girl’s lockers, her machine stood ready to detect their reactions and ‘push’ them in the right direction. She hoped it would be up to the task.

Watching through her computer, Lana viewed the interior of the women’s lockeroom. Phoebe was standing in the middle, staring with confusion at the others, seeing them all in various states of undress. Lana pulled up the monitoring window and positioned it on-screen next to the video feed, keeping an eye out for any flourish of red which might indicate severe brain activity or resistance.

Okay Phoebe, nice and easy... let the system guide you...

As Phoebe walked around the room, searching for a locker and trying heroically to ignore the pressing of naked bodies in the tight quarters, the sensor picked her up, the scanned image of her virgin brain appearing on the grid next to the others. Almost immediately it lit up, clouds of shifting colour storming across her cortex, a tell tale sign of anxiety.

Relax, girl...

Lana’s program sprung into action.

Phoebe hadn’t expected to be naked in front of others, her coworkers nonetheless, and as her stress levels rose Lana’s program funnelled a seductive new idea down into her mind.

That’s right, Phoebe, no need to be ashamed. You’re not ashamed of yourself, are you?

Phoebe’s brain activity diminished, somewhat, and indicated a more relaxed state. Casually Lana watched the new girl go to her locker and unbutton her blouse. As she removed the garment, and then her bra, bringing her small but well-articulated boobs into few, Lana detected nary a hitch in her mood.

Perfect... Now, the big reveal...

Phoebe opened her locker and almost immediately focused on the cropped image of the breasts plastered onto the inside of the door.

Her brain activity jumped with surprise. Lana’s program worked quickly against it.

That’s it... that’s it...

As Phoebe’s eyes lingered on the image, the activity in her brain was subtly influenced, the swath of shifting colouration indicating that disgust was diminishing to mild interest, with mild interest soon growing to heartfelt yearning.

Lana grinned wolfishly, seeing the new employee cup her small tits and compare herself with the image. The other regulars were doing the same, and with satisfaction Lana could see nothing going astray. Feeling confident enough that the alteration had taken root she reached under her desk and pulled out a tray of business cards for Mr. Anderson’s surgeon nephew. She placed them down on the edge of her counter.

What are friends for, after all... Lana mused, knowing that by tomorrow her little program would be generating that surgeon a whole lot of business.

I will SO deserve that raise... I’m thinking a Maserati...

Phoebe was still removing her skirt and panties by the time most of the others had already made themselves ready and passed on to the lounge, by which point Lana’s program indicated that Phoebe was fully convinced that she needed to dress in the ‘spa clothes’, and that the outfit was entirely natural. In other spas one normally donned a robe or towel. In Lana’s, the appropriate massage wear consisted of a thong and heart-shaped tassel pasties, rounded out by a towering pair of strappy stilettos. Then the crown jewel: a thin black collar inlaid with LEDs to act as a relay for Lana’s subconscious messaging, as well as a kind of indicator for when the girl’s were ‘ready’ or ‘not ready’ for a massage.

Not slutty at all. Lana chuckled inwardly, miming the excuses the female employees always told themselves. Good for stretching and range of movement. Free and comfortable.

Feeling that Phoebe could take care of herself, Lana switched the video feed to the lounge where the male employees were, at least those who fancied a good ‘massage’ on that particular day. Many reclined on couches and chairs smoking cigars or eating their lunches, while the more eager of them clustered around one of the several stages that extended out into the floor, punctuated here and there by chrome stripper poles.

Most of the female employees in the parlour had taken their positions on stage, warming up and stretching themselves on the poles. In their minds, merely working the kinks out of their bodies and stretching their muscles. To the uninitiated, it was an erotic dance, a way to get the boys going.

Keeping close tabs on neural activity, Lana’s program cleared the women for service one by one, giving them at least five to stretch, dance, wiggle and jiggle themselves into a state of high arousal. Lights in the ceiling above the poles changed from red to green as each woman was cleared, and as each woman was cleared one of Lana’s friendly and helpful ‘masseurs’ stepped up to assist.

Before long Phoebe was alone on stage, five male employees clustered around her and chomping at the bit to break in the new piece of meat and loosen her up. As she was new, Lana’s program placed her in a longer warm-up cycle than the others to make sure she was properly prepared. For a quarter of an hour she danced, her viewers growing more and more hungry and crazed with each passing minute.

Seeing a complication, Lana reached out for the small call box on her desk, transmitting to receivers in the mens’ ears.

“Settle down boys. She won’t be cleared until you work out who gets to go first.”

The men clustering around the stage looked up toward the camera, grinning with embarrassment. One of them waved with a smile causing Lana to laugh. Shortly, the five men settled on a game of rock-scissors-paper and, through elimination, Water Cromwell from Liquid Assets Management emerged victorious.

“Congrats, Walter. She’s all yours.”

The light over Phoebe’s pole switched green and Walter walked up, smoothing his fine suit, and took her by the hand. Phoebe followed him, blushing, and Lana noted with pride the wiggle in Phoebe’s bum and the clenching in her thighs, indicative of the tight, stiff feeling of need—of warm, wet oestrus—that overcame the girls when they were desperate for a ‘massage’ to work out the tension.

Everyone knew that Lana watched the club lounge, but it had always been left unanswered as to whether she could see into the private ‘massage’ rooms. The uncertainty was a way of controlling behaviour and moderating any ‘extreme’ tendencies that might cause trouble. Few were bold enough to risk the wrath of the Mind Control department, lest one wake up some day clucking like a chicken.

It was also a thing of Lana’s to watch a new employee being broken in for the first time. With a thrill of arousal between her legs and excitation in her nipples, Lana switched one of the feeds over to room five, where Walter appeared to be taking Phoebe.

The two entered onto screen and closed the door.

It’s up to Walter, now... Lana smirked, pondering how he would play his part of masseur.

Oh, very nice, starting with the shoulders.

Walter had asked Phoebe to climb onto the bed on her knees. He climbed on behind her and, after taking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie, he started into her shoulders, at first conservative but gradually allowing his hands to wander to other parts of her body: over her shoulders and down the slopes of her breasts, under her arms so as to cup and squeeze them, down her flanks to her hips and ass.

Lana reclined in her chair and, spreading her legs, pushed a hand up her skirt. ‘Massaging’ herself, Lana watched with rising arousal the endorphin, dopamine and neurotransmitter levels rising in Phoebe’s brain as as her program’s corrections coalesced into a synergistic ballet. Some of the levels in Phoebe’s body were getting quite... high. Walter was by then kissing Phoebe across the back of her neck and shoulders, while down below his hands swam around her hips and met between her legs.

Almost ready...

Before long Phoebe hit critical mass and the LEDs on her collar glowed green.

With a playful smack on the bum, Walter persuaded the girl to go prone on the bed, with a finger dragging her teeny thong away down her legs. He disrobed himself and climbed on behind her, his erection swinging. He pulled up on her hips, positioning the girl face-down-kitty-up on the mattress and, after a few squeezes of the soft tissue of her bum, slowly pushed his cock into her.

Lana was just getting into things and rising to her own release when a warning flashed across the screen.

What was THAT!?

She was sure it had been there. A brief flash of red—of severe neural activity—in Phoebe’s brain. But it was gone. That brief ripple had come and passed. Cautiously Lana leaned forward at her computer and watched, looking for any further signs of disturbance.

As Walter jackhammered into the girl and eventually came, squirting himself up the crack of her bum and onto the small of her back, there were no additional warnings. That brief hiccup had been an exception, Lana’s program correcting automatically. She wondered if Phoebe had become aware at any time during her ‘massage’. It did not appear so, for as Walter dressed and left and she lay supine on the mattress with a dopey satisfied grin. Nothing in her eyes suggested anything other than total acceptance.

After Walter had departed Phoebe’s collar blinked red, giving her the unconsciously received signal to move on. She rose to her feet, departed for the girl’s room and sponged herself clean, asking one of the other girls to wipe down her backside.

It turn, all five of those eager beavers got a crack at Phoebe. Lana watched with wide eyed enjoyment, Phoebe going from one ‘massage’ to the other, each experience slightly different. By the time the break period had finished Phoebe had been well broken in, with some moments impossible to forget. Lana recalled them with a twinge of arousal: Daniel pounding into Phoebe’s vaj from behind while she wailed with unrestrained release: Michael hunched over top of her, taking her missionary style, her thighs spread-eagled, Phoebe grinning and moaning with pained enjoyment at the blissful application of tension in her groin and the therapeutic pressure in her sex: Robert drilling into her ass, Phoebe groaning with toothy, wide-mouthed approval as she felt her bum ‘massaged’ and loosened for the first time: Jim’s cock sworking her lips and mouth as she drove her head down on him in an enthusiastic face fuck.

All the best parts of her had received a thorough work-out and no further warnings had presented. Phoebe had performed swimmingly and, when she emerged from the locker room after cleaning up and dressing, she stopped at Lana’s desk to make her satisfaction known.

“How was it?” Lana asked with a knowing grin.

“Wonderful.” Phoebe enthused with half-lidded eyes, massaging her sore but well pleasured crotch through her skirt and stretching out her jaw, touching her raw lips with a finger. “I feel so... relaxed. Like rubber.”

“That’s the point.” Lana agreed, smiling proudly for herself. “It’s my own special technique. I was inspired by the Thais. You know, pressure points and stuff like that. What you’re feeling is a rush of endorphins.”

“Well,” Phoebe slurred, “Whatever it is, it works. And I feel like... everything’s going to be okay, now.”

“Of course.” Lana agreed, squeezing the young woman’s hand. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“You bet.” Phoebe answered, with a wink. Before leaving, she noticed the business cards on Lana’s desk.

“Can I take this?” Phoebe asked, taking up a card, her other hand drifting up to gauge the current size of her breasts.

Lana grinned and graciously permitted with a nod of her head.

“Help yourself.”

* * *

The next day Lana reported to Mr. Anderson that the permanent suggestions had, thus far, been accepted by the staff. Mr. Anderson confirmed that his nephew had received a number of calls from their female staff requesting consultations. The two of them had shook and confirmed her raise, adding later that further requests might be made of her program if the current changes proved successful.

So as she settled into her desk that morning with a new purchase from a local jeweller, Lana was actually brimming with joy. Brandishing her new Pandora bracelet she extended her arm and turned it this way and that, grinning gleefully at the way it sparkled.

As usual, the regulars came in and passed by, moving on to the locker room and then to the lounge for their daily round of treatments, eager as usual to repeat the unique break-time experience that made their jobs so wonderful to work in. Lana, of course, agreed with them, her reasons a little different than their own.

As time wore on, however, Lana took notice of a particular absence.

Where is Phoebe?

Lana’s female co-workers always emerged from her ‘spa’ hooked. Sometimes, if feeling particularly sore, one or more of them might take a day or two off. Phoebe being so new, however, precluded that possibility, having not been so used as extensively as the other women.

She works in the Money Laundering Department, right? Or was that Weaponized Pies?

She briefly considered calling one or both of those departments to check Phoebe’s whereabouts. Normally she would not be so concerned, but visions of yesterday’s brief hiccup drifted back in remembrance.

Lana eventually noticed that the elevator was ascending up from the office blocks. It was enough to put her anxiety to rest.

It must be her...

Before long the elevator came to the top and opened, Phoebe striding out of it with a flourish.

“You’re looking very bright eyed and satisfied today.” Lana remarked with a smile and a wink. Phoebe returned the expression and eased up to the desk.

“How’s work?” Lana probed. “Any more problems?”

“Much better. What you did for me yesterday really, really helped.” Phoebe thanked emphatically.

Lana nodded, knowing that the male employees who had suffered the girl’s self-professed ‘fuck ups’ yesterday had probably worked it out with her during break.

“Glad to hear it. You can just go in, if you want. You know what to do.” Lana gestured.

“I know.” Phoebe replied in a quiet voice, “But today I want to do something slightly different.”

“Oh? A particular kind of massage, something like that?” Lana asked, perking up. She rested her elbows on the table and tented her fingers, ready to cater to Phoebe’s request.

“I want to take you in with me.” Phoebe answered darkly. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tazer.

Lana shuddered, then steeled herself. She looked Phoebe in the eye.

“Come with me.” Phoebe ordered with a growl.

“What are you doing?”

“I signed up to burn the world to the ground, not to become some whore.”

“Well...” Lana justified, “We’re all bad people, here, are we not? Surely it’s not completely unexpected.”

“That’s right. We’re all bad people here.” Phoebe agreed, emphasizing the presence of her tazer with a nod of its muzzle.

“And all on the same side. Admit it... you liked it.”

“Well, if it’s so much fun, you won’t mind joining in.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t.” Lana protested.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you like massages? You run a ‘spa’, Lana, I should think you would like them.”

“I do.” Lana lied disarmingly. “It’s just... that I need to be here at the desk, should anyone else come in.”

“I don’t think so. I came late on purpose. You and I are the last ones, babe.”

“But, what if somebody—.”

“Knock it off.” Phoebe spat angrily. “The whole building is on break. No one’s going to come up here.”

Lana hesitated.

“Come on!” Phoebe barked, lifting her tazer menacingly.

“Okay okay!” Lana whined, lifting her hands in defence. She came out from behind her desk. Blood pounding in her ears, adrenal rush fizzing within her muscles, Lana searched for an escape.

This is so exciting.... squeeee!

Phoebe gave her a push.

“Get going.” she demanded.

Lana made for the door to the locker room. It was all over if she went in there. But if she could somehow manage to trap Phoebe in there without going in herself...

How? Why is the how always so difficult?

In the end, the first and simplest plan seemed the best way to go. As Lana opened the door to the locker room she side-stepped and whirled around with a slap. The tazer tumbled from Phoebe’s hand, but the girl was quick, barrelling forward and driving her shoulder into Lana’s chest. As one mass, the two of them tumbled over the threshold and into the locker room, clawing at each other with nails and fists, their flailing legs at some point kicking the door closed.

Lana growled, realizing that in her attempt to avoid entering the room they had both been trapped inside. She summoned up a burst of strength.

Rolling out from under, Lana tossed Phoebe to one side and jumped to her feet. Grinning triumphantly she grabbed hold of the knob and pulled the door open. Yet she hesitated, some dimly understood impulse keeping her from leaving the locker room and its persuasive aura.

Escape at hand, Lana took one last moment to gloat at her new enemy. Phoebe looked up from the floor with vengeful eyes. Lana smirked, relishing the anger in Phoebe’s gaze.

I’ve always wanted a mortal nemesis...

Lana looked down at herself, eyeing her trembling hands. Her heart was racing, blood thumping in her ears. The fight had left her with an afterglow of adrenal shock.

Look at me, all wound up. Maybe I could use a massage after all...

Phoebe rolled backwards on the floor and sprang to her feet. Backing away to her locker she opened it up and began to disrobe. Eyes trained on Lana with a piercing stare, she stripped down to nothing. She pulled on her thong, then her shoes, the collar and finally the tassells. Still watching, Phoebe shuffled away, careful not to turn her back, and opened the opposite door to move out on stage for her warm-ups.

The two looked at each other momentarily, the normally cramped locker room a yawning space between them. Then without a word Phoebe turned on her heels and exited out the opposite side to the stripper stages, slamming the door with a bang.

“Phheewwww.” Lana sighed, shutting the door and closing herself in the locker room, her desire to escape forgotten.

Imagine if we’d had to strip down together, right after our fight! Awkwarrrrrrrd!

She sat down on a bench and inhaled deeply.

Need to relax. Need a massage...

She needed a locker, Lana realized. Scanning the row she located a free locker on the end and inserted her master key. As she opened the door she immediately noticed the large panorama of naked breasts.

Her eyes widened in shock. It’s not as if she hadn’t known the picture was there. It was just...

Gosh, those are big! Could my tits look like that, too?

Lana cupped her bosom in an effort to make it appear large, but the effect was not dramatic. Her small pointy mounds were nowhere near the swollen, inflated orbs in the picture.

Maybe if I got them done...

Lana inhaled deeply and let out a mighty puff, flailing her hands to work the tension out of her knuckles. She clenched her thighs, feeling a knot tying itself up between her legs. Her lips, pussy and ass throbbed involuntarily.

So tight... so stiff... ugh.

A good massage would do her well, she decided. At length she undid her navy-blue jacket and pulled down her pencil skirt. Her cream blouse, white bra and panties soon followed.

So free... so comfortable... just what I need...

Allowing her naked form to breath a moment, Lana registered happily that her heart had slowed and her muscles relaxed. Yet certainly something remained, nagging at her, a general sense of discomfort left over from recent stresses.

Can’t remember the last time I had a massage. I must need the pounding so bad...

Lana withdrew the spa wear from her locker, fixing the pasties onto her small breasts and slipping into the thong, admiring the amount of skin left open and accessible. Her masseur, whoever he would be, would have much to work on. With a stretch and a luxurious sigh she hoped for a full body.

The shoes came next, Lana fastening them around her ankles with a queer sense of familiarity.

Interesting shoes... they look like fuck-me heels.

They were not fuck-me pumps, Lana asserted to herself. Fuck-me pumps were for strippers and party-girls who wanted to go out dancing. These were spa shoes, perfect for doing her stretches... and lifting her hips to the ideal height if her masseur were to bend her over for a powerful groin massage.

Hmmmm, I can’t remember the last time my ass had a good stretch, either.

“Nghh!” she grimaced, feeling the tightness between her legs spike an octave, piercing her awareness. The insistent need in her rear also begged attention. She lowered her thong around her knees to inspect herself, stroking her kitty with a soothing finger.

I am in DESPERATE need of a massage! Fuck!

Lana grabbed a bottle of KY massage oil from the locker. Reaching behind and lifting one of her bum cheeks, she smeared the massage oil around the entrance to her ass, then pushed the bottle tip into her and squeezed, ‘oohing’ with relief at the stretching of her hole.

There! She sighed, fitting the collar around her neck. She then lifted her thong back into place between the cheeks of her bum.

Oh, feels like you girls need a firm rub down, too. She noted, touching her tits, before striding to the door for the parlour.

During the long minutes she had spent at her locker, Lana’s awareness of her body’s needs had grown to the point that she was tingling with a blush and on the verge of breaking out with a sweat.

I am so fucking ready!

She entered the next room, a room loud with music and bubbling with the scent of man. The air pulsed with the sound of loud conversations and the clinking of glasses. Cat calls rose above the din as she strutted down the stage, sashaying with a bounce in her hips and shoulders that made the tassells on her nipples swing in wide arcs around her breasts. She perceived a pole to her right and proceeded to warm up.

Lana gripped it and climbed up its shaft, a series of manoeuvres unfolding without thought. She perceived herself spinning and twirling, sensed the burn in her muscles when she bent down to touch her toes, stretching her legs and shifting her ass from side to side. She perceived the delicious relief in her spine and the soft jiggle of her chest as she arched her back and presented herself, wiggling her bum to work the kinks out of her hips.

Before long she was ready. She was approached by a masseur, dressed to impress in a fine suit.

Oooh! So professional...

Quickly he took her away, much to the chagrin of the other masseurs competing for work. Winking at them, she promised them all a try, whimpering so as to let them know just how much she needed it.

One won’t be enough. I’m sure of it... just feel so damn tight!

He escorted her to a private room, at the centre of which was a soft and luxurious massage bed. Her masseur positioned her at the foot of it, nudging her legs to make her fall to her knees. He pushed her chest-down on the mattress and proceeded to run his hands up and down her back.

Oh god! That feels so good... Lana gasped, his hands like magic. As they travelled down to the lobes of her ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh, the pressure and need between her legs grew

Now! Let’s go!

Her collar blinked with agreement and before long her masseur had removed her thong and pushed himself up against her backside, his erect, throbbing tool poking at the entrance to her womanhood. Slow but firm he thrust his massage tool into her pussy, her grateful and oh-so-tight socket spreading around him, before starting the piston-like exercises to work the tension out.

Oh yes! Oh yes!

At first slow and deliberate, his pace soon quickened and he began to hammer her, his body slamming into her bum with a slap at the bottom of each thrust. The pressure within her doubled, Lana wincing as his large tool stretched her beyond what she’d ever experienced before.

Oh my... such a hard and deep massage... so thorough...

At long last she felt his tool twitch inside her and gush, her collar beeping to confirm the completion. As he filled her was his massage gel, Lana felt the tension and anxiety throughout her body burst with release, bubbles of sweet tangy pleasure popping against her brain, leaving her numb and fuzzing with limp satisfaction.

She waited for him to leave, savouring the brief respite of blissful looseness.

At length the tightness crept back into her mind. Stirred by her collar, Lana retreated to the girls room to clean up.

Soon she was back out again, twirling around another pole to keep her muscles hot and active, stretching her limbs and curling her back with rhythm and grace.

The music helps so much!

Again she was taken away, the application of force, tension and pressure beginning anew. Her masseur drilled into her ass with his tool, changing his angle of impact throughout until, by the end, when the knot of pressure burst throughout Lana’s body again and filled her with warmth, her ass had been stretched with exhaustive dedication.

Again she cleaned. Again she mounted the pole. It was so important to keep her muscles working, to keep them hot and strained, so that by the end of it they would be burning and feeling like rubber.

Her next masseur gave her inner thighs and groin another working, her sex growing sore with use.

A good soreness... like a burn from a hard workout...

Her next masseur after that started with a full frontal, hands groping and teasing the mounds of flesh under her tassells until, whimpering, Lana begged him to pop the anxious and impatient bubble of tension simmering between the cheeks of her ass. He obliged, driving into her hard and fast until at the last they both collapsed, her masseur falling forward onto her back, nibbling her ear, allowing her to enjoy the afterglow blanketed by the soothing heat of his body.

The heat is so nice... good for the muscles...

Again to the pole, her thighs and arms burning from the workout, sweat coating her almost nude body with a healthy shine. She urged herself on, confident that the soreness would only heighten the pleasure.

Her last masseur was most obliging and skilled, gripping her by the hair and driving her face down on his massage tool again and again and again with a strength and speed that gave her lips and cheeks the working they so desperately needed.

She had just returned to the pole again when her collar chimed and blinked red.

Time’s up...

Lana was compelled to resist the advances of one final masseur with a frown, before heading back to work.

After showering in the girls room she returned to her locker and tossed her spa wear in the hamper to be washed later. Wavering on her feet like a figure made of soft gum, pupils dilated, skin blushing and body awash with a fuzzy warmth, Lana lamented the fact that there were so many masseurs and so little time.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her away from her daytime dream. Lana spun around and saw that it was Phoebe, looking just as zonked and rubbery as she felt.

“Oh, Lana...” she purred, “I can’t believe how wound up we were. We must have needed it so badly! I was just so stressed about something... I couldn’t help it. Can you forgive me?”

Full of endorphins, Lana could not muster the desire to be angry. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Phoebe.

“Forget about it.” she comforted, face stretching into a dopey smile. “If it wasn’t for you I’d still be all tight and tense. I don’t know why I’d never done this before!”

“I know, eh?” Phoebe agreed, nodding with a grin. “Makes you feel totally new and fresh.”

“It’s too bad lunch is only an hour...” Lana lamented, pulling on her panties. At length she redressed herself and walked out with the others. She spotted Phoebe’s tazer by the door and picked it up, dropping it into the side pocket of her jacket. Whether it was because Phoebe was regretful, zonked or just didn’t care—perhaps all of the above—she had never come back for it.

Feeling proud of herself, Lana walked back to her desk and checked the computer. Graphs and lines awaited her, Phoebe’s being of particular interest. A scan of the data revealed no more problems. With a smirk Lana took out the tazer and hid it away in a drawer, confident that Phoebe had been ‘fixed’. A double dose for the girl had worked beautifully.

She’s had the fight fucked out of her... ha! And all I had to endure were a few mickey mouse massages...

Not only that, Lana noted, stretching her arms behind her and shifting her jaw, she felt absolutely fantastic.

Sighing mightily, Lana went over the rest of the data, mouth stretching into a wicked grin of success. The new mental implant was being accepted universally and without problems. By this time next week every woman in the office would be flaunting brand new boobs, courtesy of Mr. Anderson’s nephew.

And on that topic...

Lana took a card from the holder and dialled the number.

“Hello, I’d like to book a consultation for a breast augmentation...” she began, softly stroking the breast of her suit with her free hand.

* * *

Weeks later Lana was again called up to the VP’s office, but unlike last time she hardly worried. Over the weeks since her last visit she had received numerous e-mails from Mr. Anderson thanking her for her work.

His enthusiasm for her project had obviously grown, she assumed, after receiving an e-mail from him just that morning in which he asked to take things, as he said, ‘a bit further’, with the female staff. Details could not be discussed except in person, so it was for that reason that Lana was going down to his office.

Departing the elevator Lana rounded the corner and strode up to his secretary’s desk, who was hunched over some papers and typing into her computer. She looked up and straightened, thrusting her chest out when she saw Lana approaching.

My my, Mr. Anderson’s nephew has done wonderful work!

Most of the female employees had been pumped up to custom-cup proportions, the secretary a prime example. Some of the smaller girls had to settle for Ds and Es, but it was nonetheless a fine result for all involved.

The spike in office cup size had also netted Lana an extra three-hundred grand a year. It was enough to forget the ethics of manipulating them.

And dramatically increase the enjoyment... squee! Lana contemplated with a lusty smile and shrill tremble between her legs. Maserati here I come!

“I’m here for Mr. Anderson.” Lana declared, standing in front of the secretary’s desk. The woman’s blouse, Lana noticed as well, was open to the fourth button, the generous pillows of the her breasts bulging together with a deep divide of cleavage.

“My goodness,” Lana complimented, “Mr. Anderson’s nephew really did good work on you!”

“I know... I just love them!” the secretary beamed with dreamy eyes. Undoing the fifth and sixth buttons on her top and parting her jacket, she hiked her bolt-on orbs out into view, lifting them in her hands.

And so enthusiastic about them as well! The implant has worked just perfectly!

Lana grinned and brought her hand up to her necklace, fingers fondling the diamond and gold pendant dangling on her chest. At length her fingers drifted down into the divide between her own breasts, full and round, inflated with 1200ccs of silicone courtesy of the finest surgeon in the city. They were the jewels of her body, and along with her bracelets, necklaces and earrings she felt compelled to show them off. She’d done away with her suit jackets and opted for silk blouses, under which she could wear a bra and plunging camisole to both cradle and present her bosom. At length Lana disrobed and lifted out her inflated GG’s, showing the other woman just how well her own tits had turned out.

Time to see just how far I can take this.

“May I?” Lana asked, lifting her hands in front of the secretary’s bosom.

“Knock yourself out.” the woman beamed, offering out her rack. She pushed her breasts into Lana’s hands.

Lana gave the secretary’s tits a gentle squeeze, complimenting the softness of them with an admiring look. She drew her hands in circles around them, familiarizing herself with their round shape, pausing only to let out a moan as she felt the secretary’s grasp on her own breasts.

“I just love the weight and roundness, don’t you?” the secretary asked with half-lidded eyes, inspecting Lana’s chest with an admiring, if platonic, gaze.

“So firm and shapely!” Lana agreed. “Yet.... pliant.”

She doesn’t find revealing her tits inappropriate at all! She doesn’t even flinch when I touch them. Lana noted happily, inhaling sharply as the secretary’s hands lifted her own tits, bouncing them on open palms.

Lana, you’re a genius!

She probably doesn’t even realize that I AM touching them. It’s just part of the background for her... as if it’s normal. I never dreamed the implant would be so effective.

As she was about to take a mental note to log her observations, Lana’ thought was cut off by the gentle pleasures emanating from her tits as the secretary squeezed them.

Yes, very well crafted indeed. Subliminals and breasts alike.

Mindful of the time, Lana broke off from her ‘research’ and composed herself, turning away to replace her bra and top.

“Mr. Anderson is waiting for you.” the secretary breathed, putting herself away. Lana nodded her thanks and went through the door.

“Ah, Ms. Fox!” Mr. Anderson smiled, welcoming her in with open arms. “My goodness, you look beautiful!” His eyes drifted down to her chest.

“You’re very kind.” she blushed. Closing her legs, she primly lowered herself into an arm chair and placed a folder of files on her lap.

“You know, I thought only the other girls would be seeing my nephew...”

“Oh... well...” Lana attempted to explain. She struggled to remember exactly when she had decided to have them done. In the end she came up with a reason. “I like to spend money on myself, you know that.”

“ I can see that. Those are very expensive earrings.”

“Thanks to a generous employer.” she complimented smoothly.

“I’m glad you appreciate it.” he told her, pouring a glass of water, “You’re work is worth the cost. We’d like to do more. Can you help us out?”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, taking the glass from him.

“Can you make the girls more, shall we say, provocative? Fashion-wise?.”

“Can I make them dress in little skirts and low cut tops, you mean?”

“Ya, something like that.” he nodded. “Eh... maybe a bit more risque than that.”

“Are we talking nudity, here?” Lana enquired, lifting an eyebrow.

Nudity might be fun...

“Nothing illegal.” he chuckled, lifting his hands in a disarming gesture. “But... barely legal. Enough to go outside.”

Lana pondered the implications.

“Tell me,” she asked, placing her glass on the table. “Are we, uh, how should I say it—and I mean further down the line, here—heading towards a kind of office-slut thing?”

Mr. Anderson looked as if he were about to protest.

“Because I’m good for that.” Lana disarmed, enunciating seductively, “Provided I have the right incentive.”

“Well, we do have an extra G15. Finest jet on the market.” Mr. Anderson baited with a smile.

Lana grinned with desire.

“But I’m not saying we’re going to go there. No.”

“Of course.”

“But...” he continued. “If we were to start making some, ah, drastic changes... would a G15 be enough motivation?”

Lana considered the offer of compensation, but did not take long.

“I’ll see what I can do.” she promised, picking up the files from her lap. “Here’s the data you requested.” She placed the file on his desk.

“Excellent. Anything I should know up front?”

“There was a glitch with Phoebe Richards. Not sure why it happened, but the result was that she came after me with a tazer.”

“A tazer?” he asked, eyes bulging. “She holds promise. Any idea why she didn’t go as smoothly as the others?”

“Everyone’s different.” Lana suggested. “In her case, she was just more different than others. The program didn’t jive with her alpha waves at first, but it adapted. Now she’s bought into things completely.”

“A tazer.” he mused, stroking his chin. “The force is strong with that one. I like a woman who takes things into her own hands. What department does she work in?”

“Money Laundering. She used to be an accountant.”

“Perhaps she’s promotable.” he considered. Then, placing a hand on the file he changed the subject. “I’ll look over the file and get back to you in a few weeks. You have fun, in the meantime. Do what you do best.”

“Short skirts and low shirts, coming right up.” Lana beamed.

Lana rose and smoothed out her blouse, causing her new breasts to thrust out in front of her. At the edge of her vision she detected what looked like a glint in Mr. Anderson’s eye.

“Oh, Ms. Fox?” Mr. Anderson called as she opened the door leave.

“Yes?”

“Maybe it’s none of my business, but, uh... Tommy in Germ Warfare says he saw you and Mick—from over in Weather Control—you know...” He mimed a pumping action.

“Oh, that?” Lana waved dismissively. “That was nothing. Just a harmless massage.”

“Huh. Okay then.”

Lana chuckled and slipped out through the door.

Men!

* * *

A month later Lana was back at Mr. Anderson’s office, brandishing a new file brimming with data regarding the most recent implants. Arriving on his floor she emerged from the elevator with a flourish, clacking confidently towards his office, drawing lingering stares along the way. With a satisfied smirk she pretended not to notice.

Rounding the corner and coming into view of Mr. Anderson’s secretary, her smile was wiped from her face. Lana stopped in her tracks, having not seen the woman in weeks.

But surely I’ve been seeing her when she comes into the spa... no, of course I haven’t. I’ve been so busy!

Indeed, over the last month Lana had been checking the quality of her masseurs on a daily basis, which naturally involved posing as a client herself. Given that there were so many masseurs to test, it did feel on some days as if she were being run ragged. There never seemed to be enough time. Still, the results had been... immensely satisfying, she recalled, biting a nail with grinning, wistful remembrance. The strenuous work-outs and thorough kneading of her tense body had left her feeling... she thought hard for an accurate term.

Zen-like.

Actually being right there amongst all the action, however, meant that she almost never saw a lot of the girls walking in and out of her spa in their normal clothes. Lana, meticulous about quality, was always first in, last out.

Phoebe and some of the other girls who worked in relative proximity were an exception, and over time their outfits had grown increasingly skimpy. Phoebe in particular was quite the vixen, her willingness for more daring attire perhaps helped by her young age.

But this!

The secretary had decked herself out in a plastic black micro-skirt with her mid-section ensconced in a black whale-bone bustless corset. To top it off, her breasts—so artfully expanded by Mr. Anderson’s nephew—were hanging out in full view, a pair of jewel encrusted pasties providing the only hint of coverage. And all of this mounted atop slender fishnet-clad legs ending in the tallest pair of heels Lana had ever seen.

Certainly taller than mine... Lana reflected, frowning at her modest four inch heels, though the white stockings, lace booty shorts and translucent bandeau top was a ridiculously cute get-up on her, in its own way.

“I’m here to see Mr. Anderson.” Lana declared. His secretary looked up from her work and smiled, breasts heaving as she took in a deep breath at the sight of Lana’s half-clad body.

“Oh, that top is so cute!” the secretary beamed.

“I know, right? It’s almost see through!”

“Well, Mr. Anderson is going to absolutely love it.” the secretary informed, a wide toothy smile stretching across her face.

As Lana proceeded into the office she couldn’t help but notice the secretary checking out her bum.

Entering, she greeted a Mr. Anderson frozen at his desk with shock.

“Your clothes!”

“I know. Cute, right?” Lana smiled, performing a pirouette.

“Small.” he observed.

“Small?” Lana retorted with a mocking expression. “Have you seen your secretary? I did that. Am I a goddess or what?”

“Goddess indeed.” Mr Anderson agreed, his eyes drifting up and down Lana’s slender, top-heavy figure.

“Here’s the file, bye the way.” She placed the file on his desk. “I had to do a bit of mental trickery to get the girls to accept a new fashion. It was iffy, for a while, but it all worked out. Anyway I won’t bore you with the psycho-babble. Everything’s in the file.”

Lana plopped herself down in her usual arm chair and huffed.

“You look exhausted.” Mr Anderson noticed, drawing his eyes up the lines of her sweat sheened body. “And yet.... you seem pumped up.”

“I’ve got this new zen thing going on.” Lana stated. “I’ve been working out. Lots of stretching... and stuff.”

“Good for you. Don’t burn yourself out, though. You’re our finest in the Mind Control Division.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a good exhaustion. Satisfying.” Lana informed him. “And work’s been keeping me real busy.”

“Ya, about that. I’ve been hearing that you’ve actually been, you know, in the lounge with the men. You know, actually having sex. And such.”

“ Nothing of the sort.” Lana argued. Sex? Just a few harmless back rubs! Even a desperately needed anal massage isn’t the same thing as sex. “But yes, I have been in there. Quality testing. Trouble shooting, that sort of thing. It’s all very professional. Strictly business, you understand?”

If only it could be strictly business all the time... Lana mused, resisting the urge to clench her thighs around her poor empty cunny. Sometimes it was hard to wait for the lunch break to get it worked.

If only I had a boyfriend...

“ Alright.” Mr. Anderson nodded, though not confidently. “It’s your system. I trust that you can protect yourself. But, uh, why the clothes?”

“Well, all the other girls are doing it.” Lana pointed out. “I guess... I just felt like it. And also, again, not as skimpy as your secretary.”

Mr. Anderson chuckled to himself quietly, nodding in agreement with Lana’s assessment.

“ I do like my secretary.” he mused.

“Any word on that G15?” Lana asked hopefully.

“ I’ve been thinking about it. You did just get a raise, though. I think we should wait three or four months. We’ll keep moving forward and if things don’t come crashing down before then, it’s yours.”

“Deal.” Lana announced, extending her hand. Mr. Anderson took it and they shook. “What shall we do this month?” she asked him as he pulled away.

“My secretary’s bum is a little flat, and the nephew is calling for more business. I’ll leave the particulars up to you.”

“Okay. More surgery.” Lana nodded. “I did it before, I can do it again.”

She finished her water and rose from the chair. Sashaying away towards the door, Lana suspected—felt—that Mr. Anderson’s eyes were on her bum.

“ Ms. Fox. That’s quite a walk you have going on there.” he noted. “A lot like the other girls.”

“They way they walk? Oh, just a little touch of my own. I decided that if the girls are going to dress in tiny outfits, they might as well be able to flaunt them.”

“Good initiative.” Mr. Anderson approved, ignoring the way Lana had dodged the question. “And what about yourself... how do you feel about butt implants?”

“For me? No.” Lana declared. “Save those for the girls.”

“Of course.” he replied, smiling to conceal his doubts.

* * *

Again, at the end of the next four week cycle, Lana made her way up to Mr. Anderson’s office and at length compared outfits with his secretary. Lana’s cute little booty shorts and nipple pasties against his secretary’s sling bikini, or slingkini as she called it. Lana felt she had come out the winner, but his secretary’s outfit, she noted with pride, was significantly sluttier, especially when one factored in the threading of the tiny slut-suit down the crack of the secretary’s dramatically expanded ass.

Lana jiggled tits first into Mr. Anderson’s office and, again, performed a twirl for him.

“You had your butt done, I see.” he remarked, eyes lingering on the way Lana’s ass cheeks burst out the bottom of her tiny shorts like a pair of wrecking balls.

“I changed my mind.” she told him, handing over the new file.

She sat down in her usual chair and he gave her the usual glass of water.

“There’s an anomaly I think you should look at.” she said to him, pointing at the file.

“Anomaly?” he asked, eyes perking with curiosity.

“ A minor glitch.” Lana assured him. “Not to do with the program, but some... unforeseen consequences.”

“ So what are we talking about here? Not a meltdown?”

“No. Some of the girls are just... on edge. It’s all on page six.”

Mr. Anderson opened the file and browsed.

“As always, Ms. Fox, impeccable data analysis.” he complimented. “Says here the girls are feeling some tension, getting distracted. Performance is sinking.”

“The men, on the other hand, are working as hard as ever.” Lana pointed out.

“Yes, and good work on that. Weather Control’s Lightning machine is almost up and running two months ahead of schedule.”

Lana took a bow in her chair. “You can thank me in two or three months.” she winked.

“Right. The G15. What are we going to do about this glitch, though?”

“I think we should extend break time. Make it two hours. If you were a woman trotting around in tight revealing outfits and walking with a wiggle, obviously taking joy in the way you look and the stares you get from the men around you, you’d get pretty horny. Something needs to relieve that tension or, if not managed, they might start releasing it in other counter-productive ways. I say increase break time and get it all out of their system.”

And give ME more time to pound out all this tension. Fuck, I’m so on edge. My pussy’s so tight!

“Almost sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” Mr. Anderson replied, lifting an eyebrow. “Do I detect ulterior motives?”

Lana tilted her head this way and that, weighing her thoughts.

“It would give me more time to refine the program in situ. Help work out any kinks that might come along.”

“Sounds logical enough.” Mr. Anderson remarked in a low voice. “Okay, we’ll alter the schedule. How about two one hour breaks, one at lunch and the other at the end of the day.”

“Purrrfect.”

“How do we proceed from there?”

“You ever want to fuck your secretary?” Lana asked.

“I already fuck my secretary.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t see it that way. Would you like her to?”

“I’m interested. What are you thinking?”

“Well, maybe we could dis-inhibit the female employees somehow. Make them more... comely.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“I’m not sure yet. You can’t exactly just go in to someone’s brain and download an exhibitionist streak. It wouldn’t fit. And you can’t just go around knocking down walls of inhibition. You’d have to do so throughout the entire brain structure. It could be done, if you had a thousand years or so. But no, you have to think of a simple and persuasive seed, so to speak, one the mind will accept and extrapolate on.”

Lana gulped down some water and stared off into the distance, shaking her head.

“So far I haven’t been able to think of something.” she admitted.

“Puberty.” Mr. Anderson provided.

“Advertising!” Lana blurted.

“Advertising?”

“Advertise puberty.” Lana explained. “Or rather, aphrodisiacs. I could post them up in the lockers, just like I did with the implants. Thoughtful and persuasive imagery, something vague enough not to offend or turn the mind away, but clear enough to leave no doubt as to the message, then offer up what we want as the solution. Their brains will do all the legwork. The girls getting horny? I’ll portray great sex and tell them its possible through supplements.”

“Amazing.” Mr. Anderson puffed. “All I did was think of the one time in a person’s life when their sex drive really accelerates, and I said ‘Puberty’. You came up with all that just then?”

“Yes.” Lana replied flatly, blinking.

“These supplements, though. Aren’t they bunk?”

“Some of them are, but this isn’t the twenty-first century anymore. Medical science has come a long way and there are some efficacious breeds out there. If we can get the girls to dump a batch of different brands into their bodies all at once, their libidos should hit overdrive. With a little mental tinkering, I can probably wash shame and inhibitions right out of their brains, leaving them fancy free to act on their hormones.”

“Say that again.”

“Say what?”

“The ‘E’ word.”

“Efficacious?”

“Very sexy.”

Lana blushed at his complement. “Back off, big boy. The rest of these girls are going to be breaking their pelvises to screw anything that moves before the month is out but, trust me, I’m going to be different.”

“I hope that’s the case. Please try not to drink any of your own kool-aid?”

“You worry too much.” Lana scoffed. “I’m fine.”

Mr. Anderson inhaled deeply at hearing that response. His mouth curled into a frown as if he didn’t quite believe her. After a moment of contemplation he moved on.

“Well, I can see that everything is in good hands. Let’s do it.” he ordered.

“Very well.” Lana agreed. She made for the door, her bum wobbling and swaying out the back of her short-shorts, her inflated bosom swinging with seductive counter-point.

“Before you go,” Mr. Anderson called, raising a finger, “is it true you got fired from Tres Chaud Cosmetics as an advertising executive, before you came here?”

“Uh huh.” Lana replied, turning around with a hand on her hip.

“I can’t believe they fired you. Why?”

“Because I’m evil.” she chuckled, shaking her head, as if he should have known the answer all along.

* * *

At the end of the next cycle Lana was once again in the elevator descending to Mr. Anderson’s office., pressing her hands against the wall panel to stabilize herself as John Moby, Death Ray Division, pile-drived into her cunt. Crying out with rapture, Lana rocked forward, face mashing against the buttons. A trail of illumination followed the sliding of her head down the wall as she bent over to the floor, bracing herself with her hands, devoting all she could muster to keeping her hips up so John could continue to fuck her.

Yet despite her strength, each stroke pushed her forward. She soon ran out of floor to brace herself on and, John continuing unabated, eventually found herself completely bent over, torso pinned upside down between the button panel and her legs, head dangling above the floor between her knees.

Not the most comfortable pose, she had to admit, but it certainly provided John with the perfect angle of entry, and the pleasures radiating from her pussy with each lancing blow from her suitor took precedence over all other concerns.

There it is! Yes!

As John bore down into her, his cockhead pushed against just the right spot inside her. Lana seized up and came, drooling on the floor as her mouth went slack and a high pitched wail of pleasure burst from her lungs. The orgasm touching off on her muscles with a rippling flex, her pussy closed around his rod tightly and sucked hard on its flesh as he attempted to withdrawal for another thrust. The resulting pull made him grimace with sweat-lined strain and he gasped, the semen nearly sucked out of him by her magic clam. Brimming with juices Lana’s pussy overflowed, a powerful current of cum rushing out and down her thigh.

As the orgasm finished its run through her body, Lana went slack with release, causing her legs to buckle. The full weight of her hips and ass descended onto John’s cock, still lodged firmly in her cunt. With a grunt he pulled himself out and Lana flopped to the floor like a coat dropped from a hook.

Lana and John put themselves back together in time for the woman to get off at her floor. Strutting out of the elevator Lana gave him a wave of her ass and blew him a kiss. John, for his part, could muster no more than a dopey, blissful nod of his eyes.

Squirming as she walked, Lana’s still-energized and orgasm-addicted pussy screamed at her to fill it again. As she passed through a block of cubicles on the way to Mr. Anderson’s office, she noticed with a brazen smile that she was drawing a number of stares, the men around her practically fucking her with their eyes. It was something she could almost feel, a possibility so maddeningly and teasingly attainable that if she only had more time she would gladly succumb to it again.

Time, as always, was against her in such matters. There hardly seemed enough time in the day to sample all of her raging desires.

Lana compared her outfit with Mr. Anderson’s secretary as usual, Lana feeling that her tiny, easy-access skirt without panties was the way to go, while the secretary’s sleek full-body latex catsuit with crotch zipper certainly won out for style and mystery. Even she had to admire the way latex could pull the flesh of a body into all the right places.

“I’m here to see Mr. Anderson.” she panted, straining to control the heat within her.

Yet before the secretary could answer Lana was already dropping her eyes down the woman’s figure, the dissolution of her purpose for visiting near instantaneous and complete.

The knowledge of so much flesh so tantalizingly close under the surface, the sight of the secretary’s tits so tenuously held by the half-drawn zipper down the front of the her body, brought the simmering wetness between Lana’s legs back to the fore. Her brief elevator tryst seemed to have only fed the fire between her legs, her pussy and nipples throbbing and engorged with the craving to continue the mere ‘warm-up’ she had experienced on her way down from the top floor. United in purpose, her erogenous zones forced her thoughts back to sex with a one-two blow.

She rounded the secretary’s desk and climbed onto the woman’s lap, thrusting her melons against the woman’s body and pulling their mouths into a deep, probing kiss. Working feverishly with their hands they fondled each other, hands travelling up and down, diving between legs. With a yelp of delight Lana felt the secretary’s fingers penetrate her nectary centre. Yearning for harder-faster-better-stronger, Lana gyrated her hips, thrusting her pussy down on those fingers with unrestrained urgency, face twisted into a grimace of rapidly approaching climax.

Plopping her heavy breasts on the secretary’s face, Lana grabbed the woman by the shoulders and used them as leverage to lift her body and bring its full wait down on those fingers again and again, taking the finger-fucking affair into her own hands, each thrust of gratifying entry almost bringing her to the edge but leaving her just short. she pounded her ass down on the secretary’s lap, growling urgently at the nadir of each drop, demanding her pussy to cum.

The secretary, sensing an opening as Lana rose up and prepared to descend, deftly curled her fingers into a fist and waited for Lana to come down on it. Slapping the fist with her clam, Lana squeaked loudly, both pain and pleasure lancing through her, as the secretary wriggled and twisted that fist up inside her.

Lana wanted to cry out, but she found herself without a voice, her body convulsing as another orgasm in as many minutes ripped through her. Panting and melting into the other woman’s body Lana kissed her tenderly, thanking her for her help.

“Mr. Anderson will see you now!” the secretary puffed, blowing a string of wet hair from her face. As Lana climbed off she spotted a bulge under the crotch zipper of the secretary’s suit. Her curiosity did not have to wait long as the woman unzipped herself to reveal the base of a vibrator, pushed up into her depths by the weight of both their bodies upon the chair.

Clumsily the secretary fumbled for it and pulled it out, flicking the power switch with her thumb.

“Glad I could help.” Lana beamed, realizing the secretary had also finished.

As a closer, Lana and the secretary shared a parting drink, their pussies’ demand for fluids as constant as their libidos. Lana shared her stash of hormone pills and nymphocite. Having never read the instructions, Lana had no idea how many, or how few, she was supposed to take. She swallowed five for good measure.

Lana entered Mr. Anderson’s office riding a wave of sex-scented air. With a dreamy, unfocused expression she waved at him and then plopped herself down on her seat.

“Here’s the file.” she panted, tossing it onto his desk. Mr. Anderson looked afraid to touch it.

“This file looks like it’s been through hell.” He drew his eye in particular to the stains on the cover, and what looked like the sweat-painted imprint of someone’s ass. “You haven’t been having sex on top of your desk, have you? Without moving everything off of it, I mean.”

“I don’t know.” Lana shrugged, finally catching her breath. “Probably. I usually can’t wait. Also, I think I broke your secretary.”

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Mr. Anderson agreed. “Blowjobs after coffee, tit fucks after lunch, a little afternoon delight and then a hard ass reaming before we leave. That’s our routine. It’s incredible, too, about the other girls. They still get their work done. Although I guess it does sometimes come back looking like this.” he observed defeatedly, opening the semen stained cover of the file with the tip of his pen.

“Oh yes!” Lana purred, opening her legs and stretching her thighs wide, baring her naked clam to Mr. Anderson, though in fact she had little awareness of what she was doing. With a loud groan she felt her groin muscles stretch and her hip joints pop, the whole structure of her lower body aching with overwork.

It’s a good fatigue... life affirming... edifying... Fuck, I need a stretch.

I need a fucking cock.

“How’s quality control coming?” Mr. Anderson asked, already knowing the answer. Though he doubted whether Lana would tell the truth, or even understood what was happening to her.

“Purrrrfect.” she beamed, her eyes wide and darkened by dilated pupils. “Everything’s good on my end. No glitches.”

“I’m going to take your word on it this month.” Mr. Anderson cringed, shoving the stained file to the floor with a piece of tissue. Grabbing a wet wipe he cleaned the top of his desk.

“ So what’s next?” Lana asked impatiently. “I wanna make this quick. My pussy is just barking and my ass isn’t far behind on the stick-a-cock-in-me-right-now front.” Reaching up she pulled down on the hem of her tube top and freed her breasts. With both hands she started stroking them in wide circles and pinching her nipples.

“Well, first let me just say that what you’ve done with the girls is out of this world. And aside from a slight increase in elevator cleaning costs, a skyrocketing demand for water and a higher than normal attrition rate for office chairs, everything is perfect. Except...” he trailed off.

“Except what?” Lana asked, rolling her head along the back of her chair to look at him. Eyes sparkling with desire she licked her lips, sizing him up.

God, he’s such a stud. I bet he has a huge cock!

Lana’s pussy flourished with aroused agreement.

“Before I mention it, I want to ask you a question.” Mr. Anderson diverged, tenting his fingers. “What exactly did you sell these girls? Or rather, what are they buying?”

“Nymphocite pills, mostly. Testosterone, in minute amounts, with some oestrogen and progesterone to balance things out. I threw in some IVF drugs to prevent unwanted ‘accidents’..”

“Accidents?”

“ Babies.” Lana elucidated. “By mimicking the hormone levels of pregnancy, the body stops ovulating. Anyway... there’s probably some spill over, like breast enlargement creams, sensitivity enhancers, less commercial aphrodisiacs and the like. In other words ideas that I never explicitly implanted. But they seem to work. The girls are walking volcanoes of lust.” Lana described, poking a finger at her artificially enhanced breasts, which were looking mighty plump lately, a thick layer of mammary tissue having grown around the implants. She returned to loving and caring for the new flesh, a motherly grin on her face.

So sexy...

Lana moved to her hardened nipples and starting to pinch and roll them between her fingers.

Seeing the added girth of Lana’s breasts, now well past the size of her head, Mr. Anderson grunted. He observed her wide areolas dome out slightly with pressure, then drops of nectar issuing from the tips of her hardened nubs.

“You’re buying all of these hormones and creams, too?”

“I have to be intimately involved in the program every step of the way.” Lana argued, lifting her arms in a pleading gesture, before quickly returning them to her sensitive, buzzing tits.

Ooh, my nipples are so wet... strange...

“Besides,” Lana continued, working herself back up into a panting gallop of arousal, “If my titties get big so I can titfuck lots of hunky studs, that’s my choice. And why not? What is sex, anyway? Why is there so much shame surrounding it? Love should be free.”

“That sounds like the advert you posted in the girl’s locker room.”

Lana’s hands dropped away from her tits. She shot up in her chair, her lust-filled expression clearing, eyes searching left and right as the revelation sank in.

“You’re right!” she gasped, grappling for an explanation. “Wow. That’s a crazy coincidence.”

“You’re right.” Mr. Anderson said with a mocking smile, “A crazy coincidence.”

Lana reclined back into her seat, the half-lidded glaze of lust returning to her eyes.

“Now what was this you were saying about a problem?” she asked impatiently, “Come on, tell me. I gotta go! There’s some construction workers across the street.” She slid both hands down her belly and between her legs, thrusting several fingers inside herself and gyrating her hips in a shameless display of masturbation.

Mr. Anderson looked at her and shrugged. ‘Different strokes...’ he seemed to think.

“Leakage.” he answered, leaning forward over his desk.

“Leakage?”

“Leakage.”

“What kind of leakage?”

“The pregnant kind. You’re mimicking the hormone levels of a pregnant body. Pregnant bodies lactate. Hence, leakage. You’re leaking right now, by the way.”

Lana lifted one of her breasts and tilted the nipple into view, her hand wiping through a trickling stream of milk that had leaked from her nipple and flowed down the underside of her breast.

“Oh my...” Lana gasped, unsure whether she was scared or aroused. In any case, both emotions had lately been making her pussy moisten and hum with excitation. In this case double.

“I must admit I’m a bit surprised a woman as smart as yourself didn’t anticipate such consequences.” Mr. Anderson remarked. “One might think you were getting distracted.”

“I can assure you, sir, that everything I’m doing is for science.” With an expression of curiosity Lana craned her head over her breasts and latched on to her nipple, drawing deeply with a wet suck. As her lips parted from the hardened teat, releasing the suction with a pop, her breast went aquiver in a jello-scape of motion.

“No worries, Ms. Fox. The mental side of things seems perfect, and if you say so, I believe you. But we need to do something about this leakage. Some of the girls are beginning to unexpectedly gush and drip all over the place.”

Lana pondered the question, stroking her breasts to stimulate her mind, the milking action of her fingers increasing the flow from her tits. Her tube top, bunched around her body under her boobs, darkened as it soaked up the effluence.

“So... you want them to stop lactating?”

Mr. Anderson shook his head. “Maybe just... I don’t know. They’re so distracted by work and sex that they’re not cleaning up after themselves.”

“I could make them neater, more fastidious. More put together.”

“I leave it in your capable hands. As always.”

“Can I go, then?”

“You can go.”

“Lana shot up from her chair and clacked hurriedly for the door, her nectary melons swinging wildly and throwing arcing ribbons of milk around the room. Mr. Anderson screwed up his face, watching her leave.

As Lana emerged from his office she turned and walked over to his secretary, who was reclining in her chair, thighs spread, tapping out a schedule on her tablet computer. Eyeing the spread of the woman’s hips and ass on the chair, the soft bobbing motion of her breasts with every breath, Lana’s crotch kicked up yet another notch.

I’m practically drowning here!

Whimpering anxiously she pushed on her nipples with her hands, trying to make them stop leaking. The touch only seemed to increase the urgent welling of pressure in her mammaries, though. With a squirm and a wiggle Lana sat down on the secretary’s desk and slid over in front of the woman. As the secretary looked up from her work, Lana spread her legs and dropped her feet on the armrests of the chair, presenting her wet fragrant pussy.

“Sorry to interrupt, but can you help me out?” Lana whined cutely, holding her juggs in front of the secretary’s face. Seeing the trickle of nectar leaking from Lana’s nipples, the secretary licked her lips and tossed her tablet away. Lana moaned, mind thundering with perception, as the secretary grasped her right breast in both hands and latched onto the nipple with her mouth, drawing deeply.

Blushing as her one breast rippled and vibrated under the secretary’s squeezing, milking and sucking, Lana drew up her other and popped its nipple into her own mouth.

Nggh! Not enough. I need more!

Without breaking the rythym of her suckling, Lana tilted over and opened the top drawer of the secretary’s desk, an assortment of vibrators and dildos rolling to the front. Choosing one, Lana flipped it on and, working around her bosom, thrust it down between her legs. As the phallus parted and stretched her pussy lips she felt a pinch of release in her nipples. Her doming areolas deflated as the milk gushed, filling both their mouths and for the first time in ten minutes giving Lana the release she so constantly craved.

“I’m Lana, by the way.” she said, parting from her nipple to take a breath.

“Stacy.” the secretary obliged, during a breath of her own.

“Nice to meet you, Stacy.”

* * *

Riding the elevator down to Mr. Anderson’s floor, Lana took a moment to check her appearance in the reflective chrome door. She’d been preparing for this meeting for almost a month and she wanted to look her best.

Oh no, that just won’t do!

Reaching into the purse strung over her shoulder she searched for some make-up. She unfolded a battery of tools in her hand and made use of them in turn, using the chrome panelling as a mirror. Touching up her concealer, rouge, eye liner, mascara, eye shadow, glitter, gloss, and eyebrows. At length she turned to her hair, which she had dyed a platinum blond and teased out into a bright nimbus around her head. She was halfway through combing it out when the elevator stopped it’s descent and opened.

Shoot! Well, maybe Stacy has a mirror...

Lana put her tools away and gathered up her files from the floor of the lift. Screwing up her posture, thrusting out her chest and bum, she sauntered with a practised walk through the cubicles towards Mr. Anderson’s office. Drawing stares from the men around her, Lana grinned, feeling their gazes slide up and down her body, impeccably dressed and decorated in whorish colours. For her meeting she had dressed to kill, shrink wrapping her hips and bulging bubble-butt in a glittery sequined pink mini-skirt, just long enough to hide the sight of her dripping cunny, provided she didn’t bend over, lift a leg or sit down. To advertise her chest she had chosen a custom made white camisole, pale enough to allow the shadows of her areolas to show through.

Though she loved her pasties, she had had to retire them after her most recent visit to Mr. Anderson’s nephew, the blessed and recent growth of her lactating titties providing enough flesh to pump her implants up from 1200 to 2500ccs. Her wobbling blimps cradled tightly by her top with a pair of thin straps over her shoulders, it was enough to support them but leave vast tracts of flesh revealed for passing eyes.

Mmmm...

Jiggling and wobbling her way through the cubicle space, Lana shook her ass for all it was worth. The perilously high heels she wore, seven-inch ballet stilletos, made walking a slow and delicate task. With pressure rising in her sweet purring cunny, Lana began to wonder if she would make it.

Hmmm, John’s at his desk there...

Lana lifted her wrist to check the time, reading the solid gold Rolex she had recently bought and placed next to her glittering, diamond Pandora bracelet.

I have six minutes, or so...

With a sashay and a wiggle she swayed into John Moby’s cubicle and plopped her bum on the edge of his desk. Looking up at her he smiled, pulling at the lapels of his suit to smooth it out.

“Hello, stud.” Lana husked, sliding over to him, her bubble-bum jiggling as it slid across the desktop. With a thrust of her hip she pushed his keyboard aside. Swinging a leg over him and planting her feet on his chair, she licked her lips hungrily, her intentions subtle as a sledghammer as her super-responsive pussy spread into view between her legs.

“How’s the death ray coming?” she purred, lifting his chin with a manicured, french-nailed finger.

“Ahead of schedule.” he replied with a wolfish grin. “Are you here to give me my reward?”

“Reward?” Lana asked, being coy. “No, no reward. I’m just here because I wanna be. I’ve been thinking of you.”

“And what have you been thinking?” he asked her, rising from his chair, placing his hips between her legs.

“Oh, you know. Just about our many trysts in the elevator. It’s been so long!” she whimpered, reaching down to undo the belt on his pants. Once unbuckled she pushed it down with a smile, the man’s pants falling away to his ankles. “Your huuuuge cock in my kitty. So big... so powerful...” she moaned.

“You like powerful men, don’t you? Men with death rays.” he rumbled in a low, deep voice, causing a swell of intimidated desire to issue forth from Lana’s gut.

“Something like that.” she pouted, drawing down his boxers. Taking hold of him with her delicately manicured fingers, she tilted his erection down to point between her legs.

“Do you want me to show it to you?”

“What I want...” Lana paused, taking a deep breath. “...is for you to come closer.” She craned her neck, lips puckered, drawing away as he leaned in to kiss her. As she pulled away he tilted over her, colliding with her inflated bosom in slow motion.

Lana gasped as John melted into her and kissed her on the neck, his erection sliding easily into her dripping snatch.

“How strong is this desk?” Lana asked, feeling it sway on its legs.

“Strong enough.” he whispered into her ear, pulling out and re-entering to punctuate the statement.

Shortly he began thrusting into her, Lana bracing herself against the cubicle wall behind her, whimpering with muted meows so as not to make too much noise. Rocking back and forth on her inflated ass, the oscillating swings of motion in their bodies grew out of time and reversed, Lana swinging forward on her bubble-butt just as John was driving into her, enhancing the penetration.

Oh I just love a good, slow, DEEP fuck.

Eventually, Lana shuddered quietly and tensed around him, a wave of pure sensation riding the nerves from between her legs and up through her body, filling her mind with a heady glow.

“Keep going!” she begged into his ear, feeling the cycle renew. John quickened his pace. Hugging his body firmly, head propped onto his shoulder, Lana caught sight of a gathering crowd behind him.

She winked at them.

“Yes!” Lana hissed, her responsive pussy already swinging around with a new surge of sensation, rocketing towards another orgasm. “Yes! Yes! Oh yes!”

The assembled crowd cheered loudly. Within moments the roar dissolved into a chanting rhythm.

“Moby! Moby! Moby!”

“Yes!” Lana whined with pleading urgency.

“Moby!”

“Oh, fuck yes!”

“Moby!”

“Oh, oohh!”

“Moby!”

“Harder!”

“Moby!

“Fuck me! Fuck me, damn it!”

“Moby!”

John Moby gasped, clenching his eyes shut.

“Yaaaaagh!” the crowd roared.

He gushed into her, Lana gasping with satisfaction as she felt herself filling up with his warmth.

Panting, John pulled away. Lana tilted up straight and stretched her neck from side to side. Lifting her hands and balling them into fists, then re-extending her fingers, she felt her joints crack as the last sparkling vestiges of orgasm left her. With a twist of her shoulders and a shiver, a wave of rejuvenation trickled down her spine, flowing into her limbs and touching her from head to toe.

“Oh my...” she panted. “I think I’m ready for my meeting, now. See you at lunch?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” John answered with a puff and a grin. He slumped back in his chair in front of her.

Lana hopped off his desk and fixed her skirt, pulling it back down around her bum. Checking one last time in her compact to see if her make-up had smeared, she found with delight that she looked every bit as good as before, only now with the fresh-faced glow of post-coitus refreshment.

This zen thing really works!

Rounding the corner to Stacy’s desk, Lana found the woman to be absent. Checking her watch she discovered she still had a minute before her meeting with Mr. Anderson. Taking advantage of the time she rounded Stacy’s desk and opened the top drawer, borrowing a handheld mirror to tidy up her hair.

The door to Mr. Anderson’s office opened and Stacy emerged, her abbreviated maid’s outfit ruffled and lipstick smeared across her face. Her generous tits bounced freely, her apron having been pulled down to her waste.

Giggling with embarrassment, Stacy winked at Lana and pulled the straps of her lace-fringed apron back over her shoulders, her heavy juggs rising as the frilly garment cupped them and curved with strain under their weight. With a look of total serenity she sighed and eased into her chair, ready to resume her work.

“Mr. Anderson will see you now.”

As Lana walked in Mr. Anderson beamed at her with a wide smile, reclining in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head.

“You did it, Lana!” he cheered. “I dare say the girls are just about perfect.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Lana answered tellingly. “No more leakage?”

“Lots of leakage, but no more spills. The girls are certainly a lot less messy, now. And the make-up? Delightfully slutty.”

“What can I say? I love my work.” Lana sighed, lowering herself into her usual arm chair.

“Well, just about everyone knows how much you’ve been enjoying yourself. John Moby certainly knows.”

“Oh...” Lana groaned dreamily, “He’s a man after my own heart. A man with a death ray.”

“ He does love that death ray. It’s said people kept calling him ‘Moby Dick’ in grade school.”

“What should our first target be?”

“A topic for a later date, I’m afraid. Right now I want to talk about you. You’ve certainly filled out.”

“Don’t I just look wonderful? Please give your nephew my regards.”

“I’ve been told you’ve already given them to him. Twice.”

“Three times.” Lana corrected. “Anyway...” Lana took the file out from under her arm and tossed it onto Mr. Anderson’s desk. “I instilled some pride in appearance, some composure and discipline, it’s all there.”

“No glitches?”

“No glitches.” Lana confirmed with a nod.

“Well then, it would seem I owe you a plane.”

Lana blushed with joy.

“Why don’t you take a vacation? You can fly wherever you want.”

“I don’t know about that...” Lana hesitated.

I really need to keep an eye on my program. Then again, maybe I could do without the stress... fly away, see the world. Changing the selection of men might do me good...

“Come on.” Mr. Anderson urged. “You deserve it.”

“I do, don’t I?” Lana admitted with a smirk. “But where would I go?”

“Someplace warm.”

“Someplace with nude beaches.” Lana perked up. “Exotic men... and women...”

“Iceland.” Mr. Anderson suggested.

“That doesn’t sound very warm.” Lana said, screwing up her nose.

“Well, you’ll figure it out, I think.”

Mr. Anderson rose from his chair and stepped out from behind his desk. His fly was still open, his belt undone and the bottom of his shirt sticking out of his pants. At length he put himself away, casting a wink in Lana’s direction.

He extended his hand and nodded his chin by way of request.

“I’ll need your keys.” he told her.

Lana blinked at him and paused. Looking off into the distance she pondered her next move.

Life here is so full and rich, so busy... so many men.. so many cocks... a girl could never get bored here.

A whimper escaped her lips. She trembled.

“Trust me. Go somewhere and have fun.”

“But... my program...” Lana started to complain.

“Will be here when you get back. I have big things planned.”

“What plans?”

“ Mass transmission.” he revealed, “Think about it, Ms. Fox. Think about your program, your baby, applied on a mass scale. Not on a mere building but on the scale of a whole city, a country, the world!”

“Oh my...” Lana sighed fancifully, “That really tickles my evil conscience.”

“As it should.” Mr. Anderson told her. “But I need you well rested. After you come back we’ll apply an IQ-reduction patch and you can have your army of bimbos, okay? Oh, and what the hell, full use of the secretary.”

“Deal.” Lana smiled, holding out her hand. Mr. Anderson moved to shake it.

“But!” Lana added, drawing her hand back. “I want one more thing.”

“A Maserati?”

“No... I already bought one. Three of them, actually.”

“Well, just tell me what it is and it’s yours.”

“A death ray.” Lana grinned. “My own personal death ray.”

* * *

Mr. Anderson whistled happily, twirling Lana’s keys in his hand as the elevator ascended the shaft. Lana had gone and would be away for a week, so it was now or never.

He had to get into and alter her program.

The elevator chimed and opened its chrome door. Mr. Anderson walked out into the well furnished lounge fronting Lana’s ‘spa’ and spotted her desk at the far wall.

He booted up her computer, using a very hush-hush hacking algorithm to kick down the door. When at last the booting had finished he came face to face with Lana’s work and, with a swelling of pride in his chest, saw her program as the miracle that it was.

Evil had never been so user friendly, he noted a smile, navigating the complex software with the help of her custom-designed interface.

“You’re a genius, my girl.” he uttered under his breath. “A beautiful, evil genius. But...”

He activated and deactivated the program’s functions, sorting out exactly what was what.

“...this program’s potential as a weapon... a weapon of horny big-titted terror...”

Scanning through databases and modification histories, he drew closer to what he was looking for.

“...is nothing without your guiding hand. I need you back and... aha! There you are.”

He pulled up Lana’s ‘brain’ on the screen and began to type.

“When you get back...” he narrated, “....you’ll be yourself again. And together we will grab the world by the balls and stamp your name on it’s face.”

Just imagining her program in action, sending its influence out on the airwaves, turning the women around it into super-sluts, who in due course would try and fail to resist as the their minds begin to slip and their intellects falter, no longer able hold back the roaring appetites of their pussies... it was enough to make his cock twitch with evil arousal.

“Viola!” he smiled, bowing with a flourish.

When she got back, he told himself, he would scold her about not having a simple ‘undo’ button for situations like these.

* * *

Lana eased her way into Mr. Anderson’s office and found him behind his desk wearing a shit-eating grin.

“Welcome back!” he laughed, raising his arms.

“Alright, alright.” Lana whined, walking towards his desk. She did up another button on her silk blouse to further reign in the ridiculous sway of her bosom. Coming to a stop in front of him she dropped her purse, leaned over and planted her hands on the desk.

“Thank you.” she admitted quietly.

“You’re welcome.” he grinned with triumph. “Thought we’d lost you for a while there.”

“Well, I never had any idea that I was lost, to be honest.”

“A testament to the effectiveness of your work.” He reached over his desk and handed her her keys. “I also have good news; work on a large scale transmitter for your program is progressing well. I was wondering what you wanted to call it. The Bimbo Maker?”

“Slut Creator?”

“Breastifier?”

“What about, Lana’s Lusty Love Machine?”

“Hmmm.” Mr. Anderson pondered, standing up from his chair. “Maybe we’ll work on that later.”

“Definitely.” Lana declared. She looked back at the door. “I see you left the other girls they way they were. I had to peel Stacy off of me with a shovel. It’s funny, when I felt myself to return to normal I almost thought you’d become a good man.”

“Even a good man is still a man.” he declared, crossing his arms in a wounded gesture.

“I suppose so.” Lana conceded, walking to her usual chair. Her inflated bum an obstacle for any clothing in her size, it rocked and swayed in it’s tight pencil-skirt package.

Mr. Anderson groaned, eyes transfixed.

Lana looked at him over her shoulder. “Did you say something?” she asked with a sly grin.

“No.” he insisted, reddening in the face.

Lana eyed him up and down, focusing on the crotch of his pants.

“Is that a bulge in your pants?”

“No!” he snapped, covering himself. “It’s a grenade. In case they come for me.”

“Prove it.” Lana requested with a teasing wobble of her melons.

Mr. Anderson reached under the belt of his pants, felt around his crotch, grasped something and pulled it out.

He tossed a grenade onto his desk.

“See?”

“Oh...” Lana whined, deflated, “I was just starting to get hopeful.”

“Sorry, babe,” Mr. Anderson shrugged, “My wife, my mistress, my secretary and the three girls in the typing pool down on the seventieth floor are more than enough for me. Wait...” he paused with reflection, counting the women off on his fingers, “Sorry, four girls in the typing pool.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to settle for John Moby.” Lana smiled. Crossing her legs she sat down, taking a moment to tug her pencil skirt up to her knees.

“Where did you go on your vacation, by the way?”

“Ireland. Stayed at a convent in Dunedin. Ya... there’s a lot of nuns going to hell, now.”

“You slept with all of them?”

“Ya...” Lana admitted, only slightly sheepish. “I kind of took a portable transmitter and one of my back-up computers. I wouldn’t call them nuns anymore because now they look like your secretary.”

“Ha! You flew halfway around the world to create the Castle Anthrax! I love it. But when you say they look like my secretary do you mean...” with his hands he mimed a pair of large breasts.

“Yep. The whole package. I tested a new device, one I always envisioned adding to my program. Should go well with a mass transmitter, considering the results. Those nuns are as big as Stacy if not bigger, totally natural, and crazy horny.”

“Let me get this straight.” Mr. Anderson blinked, “You went on vacation... to go work... at a convent... where you turned the nuns into big-titted sluts... using some kind of, what, body modification device?”

“Ya,” Lana nodded, “that’s about the gist of it.”

“I think I love you.” Mr. Anderson gasped. As the words left his mouth he froze with a start, eyes bulging with realization.

“I’m... sorry?” Lana asked, eyes narrowing.

“Nine-three-four-Texas!” he shouted.

Lana’s jaw fell and she exhaled softly, sinking into her chair with eyes drooping shut. Then with a jerk of her head she came back, eyes flicking open. She scanned with glazed eyes at the office around her, then trained her gaze on Mr. Anderson with a sparkle of lust.

“Okay...” Mr. Anderson sighed, “That was close. A bit ahead of schedule, but all right. You might as well take off your clothes.”

Lana nodded and rose from her chair, the movement fluid and sexy. Beginning her routine with a suggestive grin, she stepped out of her shoes, then started undoing her blouse, her immense boobs rolling forward a little bit with each button unclasped, until they pushed the top wide open and popped free. She slipped the blouse from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, following up with her skirt and panties. Seductively, she stepped out of the pool of clothing, displaying herself for his pleasure. With a placid expression she began twirling her dark-rooted platinum hair with her finger, sparkling eyes never leaving his.

“Come here, Ms. Fox.” Mr. Anderson beckoned.

She silently obeyed, walking forward as he backed away, her cartoonishly proportioned body jiggling and wobbling before him, the sight of so many curves stirring his cock. At length he lured her around his desk to his chair, where he sat down and unzipped his fly. Pulling out his erection, he gestured for her to kneel. She knelt in front of him, grabbed hold of his rod and lowered her head onto it, moaning serenely as he filled her mouth.

“ Holy shit, you are a woman of immense skill.” he puffed, her practised fellatio making him rise from his seat and squirm with ‘emotion’. Lana bobbed her head up and down on him, skillfully demonstrating all the talents of her mouth.

“Faster.” he told her, voice faint as he lost himself to the moment, head lolling onto the back of his chair.

With a grunt and a moan he soon came, giving her a mouthful of himself. Lana swallowed and leaned away, waiting for his next command with a smile.

“Oh, Ms. Fox, that was fantastic.” he groaned, righting his head to look her in the eyes. She returned his affectionate gaze, lust and hunger undiminished.

“You’d look stunning with fatter lips. You know that?”

Lana grinned at him, blushing under the weight of his approval.

Mr. Anderson shook his head at his own question, reminding himself that in ‘Safe Mode’, Lana wouldn’t respond. She would, however, understand.

“When you wake up, you will believe you need to enhance your lips. You will wish you had a plump, juicy, cocksucker’s pout.”

Lana’s eyes flickered, her mind assimilating his command.

“Get dressed and go sit down.” he told her. She rose to her feet and returned to her clothes, replacing her panties, skirt and blouse. Finished, she backed up to the chair and eased herself into it, slouching against the back with a sleepy gaze.

Mr. Anderson put himself back and zipped up. Once he had stowed himself away he reached out to the intercom on his desk.

“Ms. McCleod, please send in the package.”

“Right away, sir.” Stacy buzzed.

A moment later the door opened to reveal the figure of a near-nude, top-heavy bimbo, her face half concealed by a sheet of strawberry blond hair falling from the teased mane crowning her head.

“Quick, come here!” Mr. Anderson whispered, with his hand urging Phoebe to step forward.

The bimbo giggled and hopped to it, mincing on her stilettos to the front of his desk, her barely clothed body wriggling and gyrating. Clothed in little more than a pair of shoes and some straps of cloth—a plunging thong and a strap of pink plastic wrapped in a tight figure-eight around the base of her tits—Phoebe was the ultimate example of Lana’s work. Everything Lana had programmed, Phoebe had taken to the limit. Mr. Anderson knew she would be perfect for what he had in mind. The force had always been strong with that one.

“So, like, what’s this mission again?” Phoebe asked cutely, twirling her hair and pouting.

“I’m giving you a promotion.” Mr. Anderson smiled, bringing his hand up to her back. “Head Guinea Pig, Mind Control Department.”

“Oooh! Guinea pigs are so cute!” Phoebe squealed, clapping her hands. “They’re so, like, squeaky and stuff!”

“Then I expect you’ll fit into your new role perfectly. You’ll have to prove yourself, of course.”

“What do I, like, have to do?” Phoebe asked, cocking her head.

“Lick your new boss’ cunny.”

Phoebe’s eyes bulged in their sockets, her face flourishing with excitement. A moment later she let out a sigh of relief.

“Gosh!” she gushed, “I thought, like, you were gonna ask me to do something hard. Like, math or reading and stuff.”

“Nothing of the sort.” Mr. Anderson soothed. “Stay there a moment. Be very quiet.”

Phoebe nodded her head exuberantly and lifted a finger to her lips.

Mr. Anderson stepped forward and hovered over Lana.

“Consider her a gift.” he whispered into her ear. “We all have our toys. I have my secretary, now you have her. Let her prove herself.”

Lana’s eyes twitched with acknowledgement.

Mr. Anderson pulled Phoebe over to Lana’s chair, then retreated back behind his desk.

“Nine-three-four-Texas.”

Lana’s eyes rolled back for a few moments then returned to normal, her expression dazed and confused. She smacked her lips, rolling her tongue in her mouth, the taste familiar.

Probably nothing... With a shake of her head she dismissed the sensation.

“Sorry,” she blinked, “I must have zoned out. What did you say again?”

“Nothing important.” he told her.

Lana eyed him suspiciously.

I know what I heard... did I?

My lips...

She touched her lips with her fingers, eyes shimmering with realization. Then with a start she received another surprise, noticing Phoebe shifting on her legs next to the chair.

“Phoebe!” Lana gasped. “When did you get here?”

“I’m being promoteded!” the bimbo beamed, knotting her hands with glee.

“Phoebe is your new underling.” Mr. Anderson smiled. “I’ve given her a promotion. Head Guinea Pig in Mind Control... or you’re secretary, whichever. I thought you’d be pleased, what with the—”

“Tazer?” Lana suggested.

“Yes. That.” Mr. Anderson said. “I’m sure she’ll prove useful.”

“In what way?”

“Phoebe has an idea or two. Not many, mind you, but one or two. Phoebe...”

Phoebe dropped to her hands and knees and crawled around to place herself between her new boss’ legs. Lana inhaled sharply and closed her thighs, realization dawning on her face. She placed a hand firmly over her crotch, outstretched fingers securing her skirt.

“Come now, Ms. Fox. Let the girl prove herself.” Mr. Anderson advised.

Lana paused, the suggestion striking a chord.

Maybe he’s right...

“Yes...” Lana decided, at first uncertain. “You’re right. Let the little slut prove her worth.”

Her thighs eased open slightly, responding to a half-thought-of impulse to spread. She lifted her hand from her lap.

I suppose... its nothing he hasn’t seen before...

She relaxed and shifted forward. Rocking her hips she hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties out from under her bum, sliding them across her thighs and over her knees where they fell around her ankles.

Nothing wrong with this, right? Just letting her prove herself...

At length a grin spread across Lana’s face, widening as her thighs opened up, then brimming toothily as Phoebe framed her pussy with exploring hands. Then the grin evapourated, dissolving into a prolonged slack-jawed ‘oh’ of pleasure as her underling’s skilled tongue began flicking and lapping at the edges of her vulva.

Oh, yes, Phoebe. Prove yourself... all the guys are like this with THEIR secretaries. Maybe its about time I had my own...

“Enjoy yourself.” Mr. Anderson encouraged. “You’re one of the big players, now.”

“I’ll keep her!” Lana sighed, wiping her face with a hand as she arched with ecstasy, Phoebe’s tongue slipping between the lips of her sex then curling up under her clit.

“Glad you two could work it out.” he observed with satisfaction, laying his hands on the desk.

“More than you know...” Lana groaned, jerking with orgasm, at long last feeling the climax-that-never-was from way back during Phoebe’s first run through the spa, when that fucking glitch had popped up and spoiled the mood.

Satisfied, she pushed Phoebe away, who swayed back onto her knees and plopped her bum down on her feet, drawing her tongue around the ring of her lips to consume every drop of her new boss’ taste.

“Hmmmm.” Lana pondered, eyeing the bimbo lustfully, her appetites perhaps getting the best of her. She reached out for the latex strip wrapped around the base of Phoebe’s tits, finger hooking onto where it crossed between them. Smirking, she gave it a twist. Phoebe shot up on her knees and thrust out her chest, a tiny squeak of both pain and pleasure rolling off her tongue as Lana tightened the strip around the base of the bimbo’s tits. The slut’s pneumatic orbs blushed red, ballooning forward under the big squeeze.

“If everything’s good here, I’m going to go play with my new guinea pig.” Lana grinned, delighted by the display.

“I’ll call for you later.” Mr. Anderson promised.

Lana rose up and replaced her underwear, then made for the door with Phoebe in tow, pulling the bimbo behind her by the chest. Pausing at the exit, she turned around with a question.

“Do you think I’d look good with bigger lips?” she asked. “I’m feeling a bit... out of proportion.” she added, gesturing to her voluptuous body.

“I think they’d look nice on you. Should I call up the nephew?”

“No.” Lana decided. “I think I’ll do it on my own. My body mod machine could use a few more tests.” She released Phoebe and ushered the girl out the door with a light spank.

“Excellent idea!” he beamed. “Oh, and Ms. Fox? Try not to get too involved in your work this time.”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled disarmingly. “Everything’s under control.”

THE END