The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Trust me,” said the barista. “He’s single.”

“What?” Krysta blinked and turned her full attention toward the barista. She hadn’t even noticed she’d been staring at the man with the laptop. It was a good laptop, one Krysta approved of. Solid build. Fast, but still had decent battery life. Didn’t ship packed with cruft you had to remove. She had the same one, but the 15.6 inch model. And he had really interesting eyes. Not… or… uhm… But interesting.

“The guy you’ve been eyeing. He’s single. Go for it.” The barista pushed a coffee toward her.

“You know him?” Krysta responded with the cost of the coffee plus 15% rounded up to the next dollar and her Daily Grind Coffee Collector Card for the barista to stamp.

The barista took Krysta’s money and her coffee collector card and gave it a quick eyeball count. “No, but I know enough. Polite. Tips well. Doesn’t know how to flirt. He’s either a great actor or single, and if he was that good an actor I would have snapped him up by now.”

The barista handed Krysta’s money back and waved the coffee collector card. “We’re good.”

Krysta’s face crumpled up in confusion as the Barista stamped the tenth and final cup of coffee on the coffee card. That wasn’t right. The card should have had two squares left. One square left after today’s coffee. The math didn’t work out. This was her tenth card, and—

“Here you go.” The barista handed her a new coffee collector card and Krysta tried to shake her head out of problem-solving mode. She dropped the bills in her hand into the tip jar because it just didn’t feel right to put them back in her wallet and took the new coffee collector card. She looked at it and turned it around to orient it so it would match the other cards in her wallet. She tried to ignore getting the new card a day early. It was too little a thing to throw off her week. Hopefully the rest of her brain agreed.

Krysta stopped and looked closer at the card. Someone, probably the barista had written a note on the back.

The ULTIMATE playing field leveler. www.mondoshare.com/master-pc. GO FOR IT!!!

Krysta looked at the barista and received a wink in return. Whatever was going on was getting out of control. She took one last look at the guy with the laptop and fled before panic could set in.

Glen looked at the writing on the sleeve wrapped around his coffee. It was pretty obvious he’d been busted. She’d looked at him first, though. Well, at his laptop first. She’d looked at his laptop. He looked at her, she looked at him, and it’d been going on for months now. Almost half a year. She didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t complain. Didn’t anything. Just every day their eyes would lock, she’d kind of smile, and then she’d be gone.

But wow. Not like porn star wow or anything. Her eyes. You could see her thinking from across the room. What she was thinking, Glen had no clue. But it didn’t look like, I wish that nerd would stop staring at me. Or, What a creep. Or, I’m going to make a hashtag out of you.

But it didn’t look like, You. Me. Bed. Now! either. Not that he was familiar with the Fuck Me Now look. Glen was pretty sure he’d never seen that look before. Not even from Melissa, and they had gotten into bed together many times before she’d moved east and they’d broken up.

Coffee shop girl was just a mysterious woman thinking mysterious thoughts. Very mysterious thoughts. And for some reason his dick found that very, very interesting. For the past few weeks it kept trying to get tall enough to look over the table for itself. It probably would have been disappointed. Blue blazer, white blouse. Blue, grey or beige slacks. A modern and modest dress shoe. A businesswoman. Maybe a doctor or lawyer. But she had something he liked. And his dick liked, and normally it only responded unprovoked to long hair, a sultry smile, and breasts that had you wondering if they were real or not.

But someone else had noticed. And rather than publicly denouncing and humiliating him, it sure looked like they were encouraging him. Or trying to sucker him into even bigger hilarity. Just how was he supposed to interpret Stop just looking. She likes you!!!! www.mondoshare.com/master-pc as something other than encouragement?

But a mondoshare link?

He knew what mondoshare was. He’d downloaded a few movies and a lot of music off of the site, and he’d also gotten porn and it was probably where his old laptop got the computer version of venereal disease. But master pc… What the hell was master pc? Googling master pc just found ads for MasterCard and memes about PCs being better at gaming than consoles.

Vikram, Vik, had made that quite clear already, raving about his 3090 video card. Could have bought a Playstation AND an Xbox for what he shelled out on that card alone. Cost more than my laptop. And I got a good laptop.

“Is she hot?”

Glen looked up in time to see Vik peering over his shoulder at the coffee cup. No point lying. It was too late for that. The people at the coffee shop even knew if they were writing notes on his coffee cup. “Yeah, actually. Her eyes. Her glasses. Her—”

“Big boobs?”

“What? No! She’s just… She looks like she’s the smartest woman in the room.”

“Ohhhkay. We can work with that.”

“No we can’t. She’ll be a doctor or a lawyer or something.”

“You miss every shot you don’t take, dude. Beside, the coffee cup says she likes you.”

Glen turned the coffee cup away from Vik. Then winced. That was pointless. He knew it was pointless. His running mental commentary had addressed that mere seconds earlier. And his stupid nervous system, hardwired to avoid embarrassment, turned the cup anyway. Vik laughed.

“Yah, but what does a coffee cup know? Hey, you’re the gamer. What’s this Master PC thing?”

“PC Master Race?” Vik’s eyes widened. His lips twisted into a predatory and evil grin looked predatory. “I will show you firsthand, brother. Mechwarrior 5 looks fucking amazing with my RTX 3090.”

Glen wasn’t getting pulled back into that debate. Or the quality of the last few Star Wars films. They sucked, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Vik. Instead, he usually countered with The Mandalorian and his prayers that sooner or later Disney wised up and completely handed the franchise over to Dave Filoni.

But right now there was no time for games, movies, or weirdly appealing businesswomen with mysterious smiles. What he really needed to do was get to work before Margaret dropped by for a visit. Somehow she was the most interested in status updates when he was lollygagging.

“How about this,” Glen said. “Tomorrow I’ll talk to her. Then I can brag about having a girlfriend, and you can show off your video card to her.”

Curiosity gnawed, but it’d have to get a lot worse before he visited mondoshare from work.

“Wait.” Kimmy’s eyes narrowed. “This is just some dude at a coffee shop? And you’ve never talked to him? You can’t waste time mooning over a guy you’ve seen a couple times in a coffee shop, Krysta.”

“He’s in there every time. Four and a half coffees a week because every second Friday we do lunch and my budget can’t afford coffee and a sandwich. 23 weeks at this location, but I didn’t find out about the collector card discount until the first Friday. That means I’ve seen him 99 times. But the barista stamped by card for the 10th time today and that means 100 times, but I know it’s only 99 and there should still be a square on the card and… and…

“And it’s driving me crazy!” Krysta knew she looked crazy. Her eyes were probably bulging and spinning around in circles. Or a wild-eyed stare that told people, “Back off. Axe murderer.” Like she could kill someone with an axe. She didn’t even have an axe. Who in a city needed an axe?

Kimmy rolled her eyes. “Whoa! Krysta. Relax. Forget the card. Focus on the guy. Is he cute?”

The guy. He helped bring calm in a weird way. “I guess so.”

“Well if you see him tomorrow say ‘Hi. My name’s Krysta. This is the 100th time I’ve seen you.’”

“Then what?”

“Trade phone numbers. Ask him out.” Kimmy shrugged. “Give him a blowjob.”

“WHAT?!?”

“Yeeeeeah. That would be a little too forward.” Kimmy grinned. “Get his attention though.

“But seriously, wait for at least the second date before blowing him. But to get that far you’re going to have to show some interest and make sure he’s interested”

“So I should dress up?”

“Only a little. It’s some rando in a coffee shop, not a date.”

“Yeah. But then I’d spend the rest of the day looking weird at the office.” Krysta hoped that the look Kimmy gave her didn’t mean she already looked weird.

“Ehhhh… Just to be fair…”

“I already look weird?”

“No, but you could stand to dress up a little, even at work. Professional doesn’t mean… um… boring. Dress to impress. Maybe leave a few buttons undone. If you get uncomfortable, you can do them back up later.

“Also consider getting a bra with a bit of push-up action. It helps make the sale.”

Krysta pursed her lips. Her head tilted. She asked, “Marketing advice?”

Kimmy grinned and shrugged. “It’s what I do. I sell shit to people.

“Look at me. Am I some great beauty? Hell no. But I know how to play up what I have. Right bra and these Bs look like Ds. From the front, anyway. Being skinny helps, too. But anyway, pretty much anyone with our body type can be a seven or eight with the right clothes and make-up.”

“Yeah right.” Krysta emphasized that by rolling her eyes. Or she tried to, at any rate. She couldn’t be sure it worked.

“Challenge accepted,” said Kimmy.

Didn’t work.

It turned out boredom tipped the scales, and by lunch master-pc, whatever it was, raced on down to his laptop. A few minutes later, Glen regretted clicking the link because it hit his laptop like a bomb. The instant the download finished—and before he could run it, virus scan it, or do anything with it—fans howled, fighting hard to cool the CPU as something, master-pc or whatever came with it, had its way with his laptop, dominating the attentions of all six CPU cores.

Then the screen went black.

Glen’s hands shot to his desk phone, lifting the handset and simultaneously pressing the IT panic button. His scream for help cut short before it even started. Calling IT because of a personal laptop was a no-no. Calling IT because you downloaded something that was probably porn was dumb. Calling IT because you were down downloading porn onto your personal laptop while at work and you might as well just show yourself to the door and not even slow down to sign the paperwork.

He let out the chest full of air as a slow sigh when the laptop screen lit up again. His body relaxed. Then everything tightened back up and he slammed the handset back down into the cradle. He had a half-naked genie belly dancing around the screen.

His eyes widened as her perfect body undulated. In the privacy of his own home, Glen would have stopped and enjoyed it. And he did stop for well over a second because she was beautiful. A dancer’s body lightly draped in translucent silks. Perfect face. Dazzling eyes. A top-mounted ponytail that would make Ariana Grande either jealous or wet with lust. Breasts that…

With just that small glance, Glen started to get hard. She left him no choice. If she was any more heart-stopping, he’d be dead.

But then Glen’s heart stopped anyway. Rather than his dick rising, panic clawed its way down into his guts, shriveling him almost inside-out. The fact that he had a dick at all was testament to the dancer’s overwhelming beauty. His head snapped back and forth. Vik, the only other person in the four-station cubicle, remained buried in financial statements. He’d seen nothing.

But Vik was the least of Glen’s worries. Vik would laugh. Probably say, “Too flat.” And then he’d point out she’d look a lot better with a 4K screen and a RTX 3090. Vik wasn’t a concern. Pretty much everyone else was.

There was no title bar across the top. No buttons to close the program. The Windows taskbar was gone. There was just a beautiful woman gyrating on his laptop screen, trying to get him fired by slowly removing her translucent silk wrappings.

At least he now knew what master-pc was. It said so in big bold writing behind the dancer. How this was supposed to help him get the girl, he had no clue.

Oh god. She twirled and dropped a few feet of silky scarf. Bellies did not look like that in real life. At least not in office life. Maybe Playboy Mansion life. Was the Playboy Mansion even still a thing, post Heff?

Glen started to read, looking for a way to exit the program. “Welcome to the Master Command Center... where the Master allows you to become a virtual god to the people around you... Now, you possess the power to bend their reality to your specifications. You are the Master’s representative.”

His internal proofreader kicked in and noted a mis-placed period. Then the dancer spun and silks fluttered and floated in the air as they dropped away from her. Just one more scarf, two at the most, and then her breasts would be…

Gone. The dancing genie vanished and was replaced by a clunky-looking, grey user interface, the sort he vaguely remembered from when he was a kid.

And there was still no obvious way out of the program. When he clicked on an input field and typed in exit and then get me the fuck out of here before I get fired, a yellow pop-up tool-tip helpfully told him “Whatever you enter, the subject will immediately feel or become after pressing the ‘send’ button.”

He stopped and looked at the screen again. With the dancing wet-dream gone, the screen looked innocuous. Ugly and grey, but not that different from his accounting package.

“Glen. That laptop better be helping you crunch numbers.”

Glen stiffened with surprise, then relaxed himself. He didn’t have to look. He knew the voice. Regardless, it was hard not to look at Margaret. Even in her thirties she had… she had the Look. The Good Look. She didn’t work out; she sculpted. Body. Muscles. Hair. Breasts. They weren’t exactly his thing, but Margaret had the kind of breasts that just stole the eyes regardless of what you wanted. The whole office kind of wondered what Margaret did for a living before getting her job at Jacobs Publication, but the general consensus was that no matter what she looked like, what she used to be, she was a keeper. She did her current job better than anyone else ever had.

He looked. But he kept his eyes up where they belonged and well above the firing line. Not that Margaret had ever, to his knowledge, fired anyone for taking a look. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Glen stood with the general consensus. She was a pretty good boss. Especially after the last one. “Uhhhh… Lunch break.”

He looked at the laptop screen again. At the pop up. The subject will immediately feel or become.

Margaret looked at her watch. “So it is.” She turned and walked away.

Glen typed “Margaret Pierce” into the subject line. The laptop hummed for a moment and then most of the empty grey block turned black and Glen’s eyes popped because… just… wow. Margaret, standing like a T with her arms out to the side like she was a 3D model ready to be posed, slowly rotated on the screen.

Buck naked.

Then he realized where he was, let out a yelp, and slapped the laptop shut.

“Dude,” said Vik with a laugh. “What was that about?”

Krysta blinked a few times. She lifted her glasses and the laptop screen came into perfect focus. She read what she’d typed in, Subject’s eyesight is perfect.

She looked around her office and then out the window. And up the street. She could see a pair of kittens playing in someone’s back yard. A block away. They were cute. She put her glasses on. Everything went blurry, so she took them off again and looked at the laptop’s monitor. She could see the space between the pixels. It was kind of annoying, so she forced herself to focus outward at the rendering of herself rotating slowly and pondered.

The claims made by the software were ridiculous. No computer software could alter reality. Reality was reality. It sucked, but she’d gotten used to that years ago. You couldn’t just change reality. It changed you.

The space between the pixels distracted her again.

You couldn’t just change reality.

But Krysta couldn’t count the pine needles on the tree across the street even with her glasses on before. She couldn’t even read the text on her monitor with her glasses off. But now she could read the time on the big clocktower downtown to the second. For a ridiculous, impossible joke app, Master PC was pretty convincing.

As far as controlled experiments went, improving her sight was pretty simple. Perhaps, Krysta thought, I’m being delusional. She’d never done that before. Reality, in all its oft-depressing glory, was one thing she’d always counted on being real, and delusions… Those happened to other people. Probably more fortunate people.

She needed a second opinion.

Kimmy had recommended a push-up bra to suggest larger breasts, people noticed those, so Krysta clicked a line labeled Cup Size and moved the siding triangle to the right. The result was an annoying crushing sensation as her bra straps dug in and the cups of her A-cup bra compacted what the readout declared to be C-cup breasts. She undid that change right away. Then she did it again but put it on a timer.

She locked her computer and stood up to go to the bathroom. Then she sat down again, paused the timer, and gave the soon-to-be-new-her the amazing hairdo of the belly dancing girl from the program’s introductory animation. No one was missing a change like that.

And after all, the barista clearly expected her to use Master PC to “go for it.” And if she was going for it, and the bra wasn’t going to be in the way, she figured she might as well try something on the upper end like a D or a Double D cup. But according to the slider bar Double D was nowhere even near the upper end. Jinkies! as one of her personal idols would have put it.

Timer restarted, she marched down the hall on a mission to get to the ladies room.

She locked the door, removed her blouse and bra, and looked at the mirror, periodically checking her watch. She felt it before she saw it, a weird tightness in her scalp. Her hair pulled back into a top-knotted tail as she stared.

Fingers backed up her eyes. So did Newton’s laws of motion when she shook her head and the tail swung back and forth. At first, she got some good whip-snapping in, but quickly the tail was too long and damped the motion. She got her torso in on the action trying to set up a standing wave. Then she rolled her eyes because she’d gotten distracted and forgotten the other change.

She looked down. She’d totally missed her breasts growing. The back-and-forth rocking in the aftermath of her hair-tosses decayed to a side-to-side jiggle. She gave them a poke. Cupped them in her hands to size them. Heavy. They seemed too perky, too. She kind of expected some sagging.

“But they just grew, so I guess that’s OK. This is a Double D Cup, huh?”

She looked at herself in the mirror. She posed. She wrinkled her nose. “Not sure what all the fuss is about.”

They did look kind of silly jutting out of her chest, but then she wasn’t a guy. She shrugged, they jiggled, and her bra wasn’t going to be able to help with that. Not anymore. Or before, but that was simply because there wasn’t enough breast to jiggle. It wasn’t exactly professional, but she left it out and wondered what to do with it. Carrying it back to her desk would probably attract attention, and not the kind she needed for her experiment. Fortunately, it balled up and fit in her hand fairly well.

Her blouse still fit. Mostly. When she got to buttoning up, she found she didn’t really like big breasts. They got in the way. And she couldn’t use most of the buttons. Also not professional. She’d fix that when she got back to her desk. Maybe go down a letter or two.

But they did do exactly what they were supposed to do. Eyes popped and heads turned as she walked back to her desk. Strutted, she guessed. Slowly. It was hard to walk normally when your breasts bounced and swayed and jiggled and threatened to pop the buttons she had managed to do up off her blouse. And the swish-swish of the ponytail kind of tickled her lower back.

Anyway, just walking slowly to minimize the jiggling attracted attention. Walking fast, the jiggling attracted attention. And demonstrated that if she was delusional, it was a big, complicated delusion. Perhaps the real Krysta sat in her office at her desk and drooled in the aftermath of a mental break, but it seemed increasingly likely that Master PC did indeed alter reality.

“Jeeeezus, Krysta”, said Kimmy as Krysta passed Kimmy’s cubicle. “Put a bra on! Not quite what I meant when I said you should dress up more.”

Krysta wilted. “I knew they looked silly.”

“Silly? I’d kill for a rack like that. But A, you’re melting that guy’s brain.”

Martin’s head snapped back to stare purposefully at his monitor.

“Save that for the date, Marty,” Kimmy said. “And B, those are assets that need protecting. How is that not killing your back?”

“So I still need the push-up bra?”

Kimmy snorted. “Who told you that?”

“You did.”

Kimmy shook her head. “No. No way. I was drunk or being sarcastic.”

That or Retroactive Changes meant exactly what Krysta figured it did.

“Your hair looks ahhhh-mazing, but the guy you’re after’s never going to see it because his eyes are never going above your neck. That is a total waste. Sell down the breasts,” Kimmy said, making downward-headed gesture with her left hand as a sort of instructional aid. “Sell up the hair.” Her right hand rose, palm up. “And then when you’re ready to make the next move…” Both hands stopped level and her index fingers pointed at her breasts. “Then you spring the boobs.

“How are you having trouble getting a boyfriend anyway?” Kimmy turned and grinned at Martin. His head snapped back to staring purposefully at his monitor. “Marty. You gonna ask her out or just keep staring?”

Martin wilted. “Sorry.”

Kimmy’s grin broadened. “OK. So proof that boobs aren’t everything. He’s not getting any work done for the rest of the day now, you know?”

Krysta wilted. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” said Kimmy. “After work we’re still going shopping. Get you something flattering.

“But not THAT flattering. I kinda like having some ego.”

And Krysta had kinda liked Martin staring at her. It felt nice. He wasn’t her type, whatever that was, but it felt nice anyway.

The thing is, she liked being Krysta, too. So she turned her super-vision off when the glasses went back on. It felt weird that she could see better with her glasses off, but Master PC made things weird.

Once he’d stopped panicking, Glen turned his possessed laptop so that no one would be able to see easily and opened it back up. Now that Margaret had been loaded it looked like any other Windows program, albeit an old one, complete with the blue bar across the top. He minimized it. Then he popped it back up, grabbed a corner and dragged left, shrinking the view until the rotating Margaret vanished.

Then he took a look at Margaret again and fought back the urge to whistle. She looked like a trophy wife. Or model. And now that he’d seen her naked, she looked like a porn star. Clothed or not, she looked like a whole bunch of things, and a manager wasn’t one of them. But she was a manager. And a good one. She just didn’t look like one.

But that was less weird than the program itself. He hid Margaret again, off the side of the screen this time so he could see the rest of the options, and explored. Master PC made some pretty wild claims. Unbelievable claims. But it also knew who Margaret was and could render a realistic model of her. Naked. It had controls for bigger boobs (as if she needed that), alterations to her sexual orientation (solidly hetero), heightening her libido (low-to-average), strengthening her sexual response (looked like she needed it), and basically provided a dashboard application for perverts.

But what interested him was the claim that it could change people’s minds.

“Hey, Margaret,” Glen asked as she walked past on her way to the coppier. He wanted to see how Willing to discuss past with coworkers would work. Plus curiosity. Why does a woman with the looks of a model and the breasts of a porn star work in an office?

“Kinda busy right now, Glen.”

So he loosened that up a little with Glen is a close, trusted friend.

Margaret stopped. She turned. She smiled. “But what’s up?”

Glen swallowed. So far so good, but it was time to go for it or go silent, so “What did you do before you started working here?”

Margaret leaned on the cubicle wall. Almost posing as she told an abbreviated version of her life story. “So when the modeling didn’t work out, I got a temp job as a receptionist and started working my way up. The guys I was working for were totally different. Real geniuses, but real dumb. Couldn’t run the business side to save their lives. Before long I was pretty much running the place. Then things got complicated and I left.”

Glen’s eyes snapped up past the smirk on her lips when he realized he’d been staring instead of listening. “Complicated how?”

“Not something you discuss at work complicated. Maybe over drinks.” Margaret paused. Her lips pursed. “You know, I don’t know you all that well either. Are you seeing anyone?”

“Just a girl he’s too scared to talk to at the coffee shop downstairs,” muttered Vik.

“Vik…”

“That’s a shame.” Margaret’s smirk returned. She leaned forward and her breasts seemed to become much, much more prominent. From the new angle, her blouse really wasn’t up to the job. Her shoulders rolled back and dark diamonds pulled between the buttons of her white blouse, tempting the eye to look deeper. “Not bad, huh?”

Glen found something else to stare at. “No. they’re, um... for modeling?”

“That was… after. I met this guy at work and things… Well, you know. Complicated.”

“Right.”

“What’d they cost?” asked Vik.

Margaret’s eyes narrowed and her lips narrowed further. The room temperature dropped dramatically. “Seriously?”

Vik was something safe to stare at, even if he was trying to get himself fired. Vik wasn’t looking at Margaret, though. He worked away at his computer typing like a madman into a black command window.

And that sudden show of extra effort probably saved his job. Margaret relaxed. A smile spread across her face. She straightened up. Her breasts lifted and pressed into her straining blouse. “You want an itemized breakdown?”

“Uh.” Glen kept his eyes on Margaret’s. Didn’t peek as she buttoned down her blouse to put more roundness and the darkness between on display. “Um. No. Overall will do.”

“7700, and 4 years ago. Could have been a lot less, but I figured spend the money and get it done right. It was an investment.” Margaret frowned. “Didn’t pay off like I’d hoped.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I was um… OK. I was still young and stupid. Trying to get rich the easy way. Sleeping with the boss. He sprung for half. Me, I was fine with C, but I thought, ‘Fuck it. He’s chipping in. Might as well give him what he really wants.’”

Her face turned ugly. “Turns out what he really wanted was blonde, eighteen, and ridiculous fake boobs. So now I work here.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Money’s not as good but controlling that money’s worth it.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Young and hot with a rich boyfriend? Hell yeah. Only next time he’s not married, and I have a back-up career.”

Glen looked down at what he’d typed, Increase breasts two cup sizes, then back up at Margaret. As his eyes swept over her blouse on the way up he wondered if he would be able to notice the difference. They were already pretty big. “I, uhm, meant the implants.”

Margaret stopped and thought. Her lips pursed. Then she smiled maliciously. “Ohhhh no no no. I would get boobs that made that little schoolgirl bitch look like a 10-year-old.”

Glen pressed enter.

Margaret’s eyes went wide. “Ow. Shit.” Her arms crossed over her chest.

Glen heard a snapping sound. Then the rrrrrip of tearing fabric. And saw a button launch from her blouse like a pilot ejecting from a doomed jet fighter. As Margaret’s breasts shoved the ruins of her bra out through the hole they’d torn down the front of her blouse, it occurred to him that maybe one extra cup would have been enough for a test.

And before he did anything like this again, he’d do a little research into what all the numbers and letters in bra sizes actually meant, but there was no way that a mere two cup sizes should blow up her blouse.

Margaret held everything in place as best as she could, not very well, until the shock wore off. Then she casually took off her blouse, discarded her bra, and posed to better show off the round orbs of the head-sized breasts jutting from her chest.

“I have no idea what’s going on, but you like what you see, boys?

Her response left Glen stunned, Margaret would never in her right mind do that. But then he realized she wasn’t in her right mind. Her libido sat at the high end of the scale and her inhibitions at the low. He hadn’t touched those, but obviously now her pride in her big breasts outweighed the rational part of her brain that said you didn’t pull your tits out at work.

Glen spun around to see who made the “Guh-duh” sound even though it couldn’t have been anyone but Vik, and it was. The little bit of Vik that was left. Vik looked lost. His eyes glazed over as he stared at Margaret.

Margaret giggled and preened. She gazed back at Vik suggestively.

“Uhhhhhhh wow,” moaned Vik.

He could fix this. Glen knew he could fix this. He’d typed in return breasts to normal, but then stopped. What if normal was without the implants? Would that fix her bra and blouse and shirt? Could he fix the bra and blouse? He needed to buy time.

Margaret will forget her breasts just grew.

“I can’t believe I talking with you guys about this, but yeah. Who wouldn’t?” Like this sort of thing happened every day, or if it didn’t she didn’t care, Margaret knotted her blouse and manhandled her huge breasts into the sling they provided.

Vik looked about to pass out. Clearly even in his worldview there were better things to lust after than a RTX 4090 or whatever top-dog video card came next.

“So the moral of the story is ‘If you’re getting a boob job, go big or go home.’” She turned and walked away, making sure her audience could see her breasts rocking and bouncing.

“Those were even bigger than I thought,” said Vik, his voice thick and his eyes wide.

And that was as far as Vik got before Master PC erased his memory of the past few minutes and got him back to work. And corrected another small problem.

Glen couldn’t leave his best friend with a four-ana-half inch dick.

“Never seen you here before.” A stupid and offensive thing to say to someone you’ve walked past for 103 workdays, no matter what the damn coffee collector card said. Krysta kept telling herself that the card didn’t matter. Someone made a mistake, and it wasn’t her. The card didn’t matter. She got a free coffee one day early. The card didn’t matter. The world was not going to end.

She focused on The Big Guy who’d stopped her in the hall to distract herself from the negative impact of the card. Krysta was used to being missed. What she wasn’t used to was people pointing it out when they finally noticed her. Third time today, too much for coincidence, so she was pretty sure it was the boobs. Or the hair.

But with this one she couldn’t even slouch and slip around him. He was big. He towered over her and beside her. If he’d really wanted to, he could have surrounded her. He was good looking, she supposed, but not really to her tastes. Physical fitness was good, it assisted in a long, healthy life, but there were limits. And at some point it was excessive. Basically bragging, I have time to waste on this and you don’t. And this guy added just being big to that, so he was super big.

“Uhm. Hi?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to join a few of us for a drink after work. Introduce you to the gang. Get you to know the office—”

“I’ve been working here for five and a half months.”

The Big Guy didn’t even blink. He just kept grinning. “Better late than never. What do you say?”

He didn’t have the shame to be embarrassed. Krysta decided she didn’t like him. It wasn’t hard.

“I’m going out with some friends tonight.” Krysta straightened up and tried to catch Kimmy’s attention over the rows of cubicles.

“What club?”

“Shopping.”

“You work out?” Once again, he switched gears without batting an eye. “There’s a great gym around the corner. You should come with me some time.”

Was this confidence or just delusion? Not being the most confident, and definitely the least delusional person she knew, she couldn’t be sure.

She also didn’t want to think about how going to the gym with The Big Guy would turn out, so she countered with “Maybe you should come to a book club meeting with me.”

“No seriously. What gym do you go to?”

“I, uh, don’t go to a gym.”

“Then you should definitely come with me. You’ll love it.”

Krysta decided he had a solid mix of confidence and delusion. Maybe delusion provided confidence. Maybe she should let herself be more delusional. But first she’d have to let go of the nagging-but-false certainty that the coffee collector card was somehow her fault. Being delusional about stuff like that could only lead to trouble.

So now she was pretty sure that people who could do delusion were not necessarily more fortunate, so she’d already learned something useful, and unexpected, from her experiment. But she still didn’t want to go to a gym with him, confident, delusional, or not.

“Suppose I had a boyfriend,” she said.

“Half the challenge. But that sounded like you don’t.”

Rats.

His smile looked predatory, then relaxed into the regular grin. And a pathway opened up. She took it. That had been kind of annoying, but she supposed she’d have to expect it if she was going to be pretty from now on.

But the wisdom of her personal hero, Carrie Fisher, echoed through her mind as she stepped into her office.

They let us go. It was the only reason for the ease of our escape.

He’d keep coming back unless she made him stop. Or made her boobs small again. Maybe she could analyze the boob-size to annoying interruption interaction and find a ratio that maximized boobs and the attention that got her while minimizing the work stoppages. Maybe Kimmy had some advice.

Krysta stepped back out of her office and back into the hall. Kimmy wasn’t in her cubicle, but Martin was. His eyes didn’t pop out and stare at her this time, but he did sit up straighter. That was the kind of attention she liked. None of this, “Hey baby, let’s go to the gym.”

And that gave her an idea. The Big Guy, she hadn’t even gotten his name, so he was just The Big Guy, needed some competition. Something so threatening that he’d leave her alone.

She sat down in her office. Opened up Master PC. Loaded Martin. Clicked the muscle slider bar and got ready to drag it to the right. All the way right. Then stopped. She’d destroy his clothes. She needed a faux boyfriend, not the Incredible Hulk. She needed to have a bit of restraint.

She leaned out into the hallway, made a guess, and move the slider a bit. Another look, another adjustment. When it looked like Martin’s white shirt was about to pop its seams, she stopped. He caught her looking. She did her best to smile. He smiled back, so it must have worked.

Or maybe it was just the boobs.

There was more to muscle than just more muscle, though. Muscular Martin looked kind of blobby. Krysta looked around and found Tone. That she jacked all the way to the right. Now Martin’s painted-on shirt outlined the body of a god. Krysta was impressed. She felt her heartrate tick up. She looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then she went back to ogling Martin on her screen. He was missing something. Something just a little out of proportion. So she corrected it.

And heard Martin’s groan. She’s over corrected, obviously. Martin stood up and limped toward the bathroom, trying to conceal that he now had a penis like a baseball bat. It was merely a noticeable bulge down the leg of his pants by the time he reached Krysta’s office and turned for the bathroom.

Krysta’s eyes popped as she watched his butt working walking him away from her until he turned a corner and vanished into the bathroom. This was something she could get used to.

Next step, she needed to know how to look like a girlfriend. Kissing. Hugging. Cuddling. Master PC didn’t really have slider bars for that. Skill at oral sex, there was a bar for that, but nothing for snuggling. Never know when you might need to know something, and the more you knew, the less you didn’t, so she moved the oral sex slider to the right into what she figured was expert proficiency. Erotic Massage, that was close to hugging, so up that went as well.

She even played with her own musculature and muscle tone settings a bit so she wouldn’t have to go to a gym. It looked weird, extra lines on her arms and kind of bulgy. And people would probably bug her about which gym she went to a lot. Princess Leia didn’t need muscles. So Krysta didn’t need muscles. Muscles went down. Tone went up. She left it there.

Partly because Martin came back out of the bathroom with his shirt buttoned down to make more room for his broad shoulders. This was definitely something Krysta could get used to. She stood up, made sure her back was straight and her breasts were… played up as Kimmy put it. She unbuttoned another button just to make sure.

She sat down and made her breasts even bigger, then stood up again. Her blouse was full. Even buttoned down it strained. She looked over at Martin and smiled. It worked last time.

Martin didn’t see the smile this time. His eyes were locked about eight inches lower. The bulge in his pants became more pronounced. She walked toward him. Her breasts bounced and swayed and jiggled, but they were supposed to this time. They would have even without the exaggerating the strut, so why not? It occurred to her that she wasn’t being fair, she was using him, but she also knew that there were plenty of other women around who would be quite happy to use him and be used by him. The new him, anyway.

Not that there was anything wrong with the old Martin. But the new Martin… Even Krysta had to admit she really liked the new Martin.

“Uhhhh…” she said.

Martin responded with, “Hi.” He looked at her face this time. They walked to his desk together. Because that’s what people do when they’re into each other, right? Now she just had to make sure they ran into The Big Guy to make sure he knew she was taken.

Not that she was taken. Taken didn’t sound right. It was a lie for one thing. And for the other, Martin hadn’t taken anything. It was more like she’d taken him.

But it was for a good cause.

She tried to talk to Martin, but she wasn’t any better at it than he was. Kimmy raised an eyebrow, started to smirk, and then her eyes locked onto Martin and stayed there at least until they drifted out of sight, walking past Martin and Kimmy’s cubicle.

The Big Guy wasn’t hard to find. He had one of the better-placed office spaces in sales. He nodded to her as she and Martin approached. Then he saw Martin and stood up, offering a handshake.

Krysta mostly ignored them talking, because she was busy working out the ramifications of turning Martin into competition for The Big Guy. When you changed reality that much without anyone noticing, it made ripples to fill in the obvious holes. Martin couldn’t have just suddenly become enormous, so Martin knew stuff he probably hadn’t before. Like body building. Not only could he match The Big Guy’s size, he also could discuss the art and the craft. Made the Big Guy sound amateurish, actually. But he was polite about it.

Now she needed to make it look like they really were an item.

Standing beside Martin, she pressed into him. Her breasts squishing against his arm. That felt right. He stiffened, stammered a moment. She ran a hand up his back, almost on instinct, her fingernails dragging softly. Occasionally she caressed a little—not because she was enjoying it, she told herself—but because she needed to sell closeness. She just let her hands play and let the boys talk.

The Big Guy, she’d gotten his name and already forgotten it, grinned ear to ear and closed things off by saying, “You should get her to do something about that.” He winked at her and then left.

She turned and found herself standing way to close to Martin. Her breasts softly rubbed his chest. They really were too big. She pressed them into him.

Martin’s eyes went wild and glassy. “Oh my god,” he moaned.

“Do something about what?” she asked, giving him the smile he seemed to like so much.

He looked a combination of confused and intensely focused. Expecting and needing something. He stared down at her, and unlike with The Big Guy, it wasn’t creepy. The Big Guy looked at her like he wanted her. Like she was a possession. Martin looked at her like he needed something. Like he was her possession. She liked it and gazed up at him. Her roaming hands drifted down his chest. Down down down. They found something long and thick and straining against his pants. She began to stroke it softly. Martin’s eyes rolled up and he whimpered.

Krysta looked down. She was stroking his hard dick. It wasn’t bulging anymore. It was trying to escape, and it was a lot bigger when it was hard. She hadn’t really expected that. OK. She had; she hadn’t expected it to be quite so big.

And she didn’t know what to do. They were in a hallway at work, not far from the cubicle farm. She forced herself to stop. Martin’s hands found her hips and lifted her and their lips met and she found she knew enough about kissing to get the job done. He opened his mouth to gasp for breath and her tongue slipped in. Her arms went on his shoulders and around his neck and her body sort of undulated and the kiss went on and on. A little voice in the back of her head suggested she drop to her knees and take out his cock and that she knew exactly what to do to make him howl.

But Krysta had no intention of doing it. It wasn’t that it was gross. Well, yes. It was. It was gross. But only intellectually gross, and she knew she knew how to minimize the grossest parts. She was an expert now. Even if she’d never done it before. But this wasn’t the time or place to…

Martin came. While they’d been kissing, she’d kind of been massaging it with her body. Whoopsie.

She left him sulking, went back to her desk, and realized she should have checked for a restore, revert, or undo option before completely changing a guy. First things first, she cleaned him up and made him forget about coming in his pants. He looked a lot happier after that.

Now she had two options. Put him back the hard way as best as she could or leave him like that. It’s not like anyone would notice. As far as everyone else was concerned, he’d always looked like that. She started scaling him back, but Kimmy was chatting with him. Chatting hard. Kimmy with new boyfriend hard.

It occurred to Krysta later that she probably could have typed something like Martin is back to the physical condition he was in this morning. But this was OK. He was a nice guy when he wasn’t too horny to think straight, and that was pretty much her fault anyway, and Kimmy always complained about how she kept falling for bad guys. This change would probably be good for her, too.

Glen gathered his stuff up and turned to say good night to Vik after a long, long day, but Vik wasn’t there. He’d bailed already. Smart man.

But not that smart. He’d left his PC unlocked, a capital offence in the recent security policy manual, so Glen locked it for him and left.

And missed the shriek of pleasure as Vik’s lips closed over one of Margaret’s stiff nipples. Her glassy eyes fluttered shut, and she shuddered. Her legs already spread to straddle Vik’s thighs, split wider. She moaned, “Please please please please. Oh god. So good so good. Never felt this good before.”

She bucked as Vik’s hands, both of them, cupped one of her huge, fake tits and lifted it. His tongue lashed her nipple and her mind melted. Her body undulated, grinding into his groin like she was already falling into the throes of orgasm. Every caress of her breast had the impact of a vagina-stuffing thrust from the finest cock she’d ever experienced. Vik’s teasing tongue at her nipple made her feel as though God himself was eating her pussy.

A pussy rubbing rhythmically against the biggest, fattest cock she’d ever felt through her wet panties, Vik’s slacks, and hopefully nothing more. She momentarily stilled her quaking body. She gasped for breath. She slipped back and unzipped his pants.

The straining monster lurking within exploded out, towering above his lap and throbbing with power. She stared and drooled, hungering to suck on it. To take it into her mouth and pleasure it. “Oh gaaaawd….!”

But in a triumph of human spirit and strength of will, she chose option B: Pleasure herself with it. She rose. She pulled her dripping-wet panties to the side, positioned herself over his enormous cock, and slid it into her super-charged, inferno-hot body. Her back arched. Her eyes slammed wide open. Her gaping mouth gulped in a stunned breath of air.

“Ha-YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH” cut through the empty office. “FUCK ME! FUHHHHHK! GIMME THAT FAT COCK!”