PGAD
12.
It was a strange week, one full of conflict and turmoil.
Not at work. Work was perfectly normal, mundane even. Sara had simply returned to her office, devoting herself diligently to making up the two missed days from the week before. In the back of her mind, she worried a little about Chris the lab tech doing or saying something to someone, but when reflecting on that possibility, she decided that his situation was actually far more precarious than her own (from a career/legal perspective at any rate), and he was not likely to do anything but try to keep his head down. She’d deal with him when the time came.
For the present, Sara simply returned back to doing what she’d always done for years on end: answering calls and emails, preparing reports, holding meetings, checking on her direct reports’ progress and it was all surprisingly easy in spite of everything that had happened, like settling into an old pair of shoes.
No one could look at her and see the tempest whirling within. For one, the libido was still a problem. While her arousal was mostly a tolerable distraction, Sara knew fully well by now that if she didn’t address her need periodically, it was liable to flare up uncontrollably at an inopportune time. She worked around this by blocking off time on her calendar several times a day. She alternated between finding a secluded, seldom used bathroom, or if she were feeling particularly raunchy and scandalous, she’d surreptitiously touch herself at her desk. However, it wasn’t that over time she was getting better at containing herself and getting off discreetly; it simply more that her good judgment was starting to erode more when she was especially horny, and she was finding it harder to care. The fact that skirting the line was perversely exciting didn’t help her make particularly good decisions either.
It all came down to her elevated libido. When Sara thought about it, that was what was really messing with her, far more than anything else she’d done to herself. It was her libido that made her hook up with Chris, twice. It was the reason why she’d gotten with two guys one after another. It was overriding her mind. Worse than that—it was corrupting her mind.
Case in point was the way she kept going back to Saturday night, re-living the end of the evening. The way that that friend of the handsome guy—who wasn’t bad looking himself—had come strolling into the room, confident, presumptuous, practically expecting to be able to get between her legs too.
As it had been all day on Sunday, when Sara’s libido was under control, she would think about that moment with contempt for those two dirtbags, anger at herself for behaving in a way that gave those men the impression that she was so easy and openly promiscuous. She felt extremely guilty and even depressed at what she had done.
When she was aroused though… that moment played back differently. Instead of a scandalous proposition, it felt like more of… a missed opportunity, perhaps. One that, having been taken by surprise, Sara hadn’t been prepared to accept. Even in her intoxicated state, she’d innately thought it would be just too outrageously crazy. But still, she wondered what if she’d said yes. What if she’d gone a little further… And then inevitably she’d find her fingers creeping back between her legs, rubbing her aching, needy spot…
As the week progressed, a threesome became her new favorite fantasy, something she’d never even thought about before. The way that having two different men’s seed inside of her had been so depravedly exciting, now she thought of both the men knowing about the other. Both of them doing that, but with her at the same time. That thought got Sara so incredibly hot, it drove her over the edge every time.
With all of the scheduled “alone time” on her calendar, as well her private time at home, that fantasy was consuming a good amount of her day. It was to the point that even when she wasn’t uncontrollably turned on, she was still thinking about it often.
Gradually, she realized that the nature of her daydreams were shifting, almost as if she were contemplating making fantasy into reality. It was during those moments however that she had the most reservations—Sara didn’t think she could really muster up the courage to do that. Even when she’d been drunk off her ass last Saturday, uninhibited, running on hormones and liquid courage, she’d still declined. She couldn’t remotely imagine getting up the nerve to do that if she were in her proper state of mind.
Sometimes Sara would pause in the midst of her dirty, illicit thoughts and wonder what was happening to her, wonder who the fuck she was. She was Sara Davis, Chief Finance Officer. Sara Davis, power executive. That’s who she was. Not Sara Davis, horny, mindless slut. The filthy, pleasure-hungry whore, that craved semen-spurting cock, two at a time even…
The competition between her unmanageable urges and the struggle to preserve her own identity was mentally exhausting. The guilt and shame at what she had done hammered at her constantly. By mid-week, she found herself wishing she could just make those feelings go away, if only for a short while and get some relief from the incessant mental anguish. That wish stayed planted in the back of her mind, not directly acknowledged, but it was the beginning of an idea that she wasn’t yet ready to admit to herself.
In between masturbation sessions at home, Sara had taken to scrolling through the tablet’s options again. But while she had previously lingered over the Physiological tab, now it was the Psychological tab she was drawn to, examining it longer and longer. In the first half of the week, it wasn’t a serious idea—she couldn’t use the tablet even if she’d wanted to, as the nanites were still depleted by the onerous task of reverting her back to her regular, unappealing self.
But by Thursday, it wasn’t some vague hypothetical any longer. It had been long enough for Sara to know that the nanites were ready again.
What had been on Sara’s mind increasingly as the week had passed was an old Gen-U-Tech initiative, called I-New. She remembered it because it had been a project spearheaded by Thomas, her skeezy colleague.
That in and of itself wasn’t very memorable—lots of executives had lots of projects—but a 400 million dollar write-down certainly was. She was surprised he even still had a job after that debacle, but naturally the weasel had managed to stay on somehow.
The project had been a failure. “I-New” was short for Inhibition Neutralization, and apparently the product had never delivered on its namesake. The core purpose had been to “inhibit inhibitions”, as some marketing cog had phrased it. Eliminate insecurities, build confidence, do away with second-guessing and agonizing anxiety…
It sounded great on paper, and exactly the kind thing Sara felt that she needed at the moment, but I-New had never materialized. There had been nearly unlimited funds allocated toward research and development and while supposedly progress was being made, ultimately the concept never progressed beyond a pipe dream.
Until now, that was.
Sara’s attention was captivated by the miraculous tablet in her hand, the interface pulled up to the Psychological tab, focused on the singular label amongst the endless other settings, the one simply labeled “Inhibition”.
Hundreds of millions of dollars had been quite literally wasted trying to accomplish what she could do right now with a swipe of her finger. She could lower her inhibition level and the nanites would get straight to work, making the molecular changes that would end up doing away with the constant guilt and mental stress.
Just at least for a little while, Sara thought. She wasn’t able to figure out how to lower her libido, but this would be the next best thing. The vacillation between either loathing herself or else being too uncontrollably horny to care at that moment was starting to take its toll. She just needed a little mental respite…
Such a dangerous idea, though. Now she wasn’t mulling over tampering with her body, or her hormones. Now Sara was considering directly messing with her mind. Practically re-wiring it. Not a good idea. But still, she just wasn’t sure how much more she could take…
It consumed her thoughts, killing her productivity for the day. That evening, in between sessions of attending to her body’s appetite for lust, she deliberately avoided looking at the tablet, catching up on television shows, though she was so preoccupied that she could barely recall what happened in any of the episodes.
Sara slept poorly that night, half-thinking, half-dreaming about using the tablet, and when she awoke, groggy and poorly rested, it was the first thing that immediately popped into her head.
By Friday afternoon, she had all but made up her mind. The prospect of the end of the work week held no appeal at all, given her mental state. She wasn’t at all looking forward to a weekend of being intermittently turned on or otherwise feeling disgusted with pretty much everything about herself: her body, her past actions, the weakness of allowing her hormones to break her willpower. At this point, it was either try the setting or bang her head against the wall to try and get the bad thoughts out.
Sara rubbed herself compulsively as she drove home. Having already semi-consciously come to a decision, she was excited by the idea of getting some mental relief. Of course, that translated to sexual arousal, and the uncontrollable need to get herself off. Sara ended up leaving the office half an hour early.
About forty minutes later, she entered her house, sweaty and panting from her ministrations. Still, she felt clear-headed and determined as she headed up to the bedroom. She was going to enjoy the weekend confined to her expansive and comfortable home, ordering lots of take-out, binge-watching junk TV, relieving any sexual tensions as needed, and in general not feeling like crap about herself.
Sara pulled the tablet out of her expensive handbag, dropping the latter to the floor. The screen was still pulled up to the Inhibition setting, which she slid precipitously far to the left, and then scrolled down. She needed only to envision what this weekend was going to do to her mental health before simply jamming her thumb down on the ‘Apply’ button without further preamble.
“Ah..!” Sara’s head twitched as she dropped the tablet, her hands going to her head, wincing. But just a second later and the sharp sensation that had hit her was gone.
And just like that, it was done.
Sara reached down, carefully picking up the tablet, and then stood there for a few moments assessing herself. She didn’t feel particularly different. She still felt like herself. The change didn’t appear to have harmed her at all. In fact, everything seemed totally the same, except that Sara suddenly realized that she felt better than ok—she felt great.
Somehow, she felt just like herself, only like all the cares of the world had lifted off of her shoulders. She still had all of the same recollections, all of the same thoughts, but none of it bothered her at all. So she was a middle-aged, twice-divorced fat-ass… So what? Lots of people looked like her. Worse, even. She’d had no willpower all week long, masturbating like a horny animal in her office, in the bathroom. Who cared? Nobody, that’s who. No one even saw or knew about it, so what was the big deal anyway? She’d screwed a bunch of guys last week? What difference did that make now? None! Ancient history!
It felt… nice, so very nice to feel like this after a tough week of beating herself up. It made her wonder why she’d been so hard on herself in the first place. In fact, she wondered why she’d been so hard on herself for much longer than these past days and weeks. Right then and there, she picked up the phone and ordered a pizza with a dozen wings and a few extra sides of ranch. Why not eat what she liked? You only live once, why not enjoy it? If people didn’t like how she looked, they could go shove it.
Ninety minutes later, and the pizza was three-quarters of the way gone, and likewise for the wings. Sara was sitting in a kitchen chair, pants unbuttoned, a hand shoved inside. Her laptop sat on the kitchen table next to her dinner plate, now holding only the gnawed chicken bones. She panted and moaned loudly as she watched a porn clip, unashamed and utterly unselfconscious. Her body had needs, and there wasn’t anything wrong with sexual needs. It was as natural as needing air and water, and if her needs were more than they would normally be, well, that wasn’t Sara’s fault either.
Looking back, Sara would think later how foolish she had been. How obvious, how easily she should have seen it coming. But at the moment, all she was consumed with was fulfilling her wants and needs and that annoying voice inside telling her to stop, to be careful, to control herself, restrict herself, deprive herself, that voice was blissfully silent. Somehow she had the presence of mind to remind herself that this was only temporary, that she’d be changing herself back after a weekend of rejuvenating relief. But that reminder only led her down a more dangerous path.
At that moment, she decided that if she only had the weekend to enjoy herself, she was really going to enjoy herself—and Sara knew exactly how to do that. She pulled her hand out of her pants, sucking the juices of her fingers, feeling perverted and nasty doing it, and then picked up the tablet. With a few familiar swipes, she promptly loaded up the ‘Slut’ profile and with no reservation whatsoever hit ‘Apply’.
“Haaaaaaaahhhhh!”
She dropped to the kitchen floor with a dish-clattering crash as the nanites activated, and she felt the smile play on her lips, even as her bones cracked and her body twitched and thrashed, limbs jerking as her frame was being reshaped.
She began moaning loudly once the tingles began, and as soon as she regained motor control, her hand was back inside of her pants as they grew looser and baggier. The other hand was feeling herself up, running through her hair as it grew longer, changing from brown in color to pure bright gold, then down to her face as it slimmed, toying with her lips as they plumped; and then finally grabbing her modest tits as they bulged and expanded, filling the front of her blouse even as the rest of it grew looser around her slimming arms and midsection. The top few buttons strained, becoming painfully tight, and she yanked at the blouse, easily ripping it open with a loud tear as her bust continued to expand, the exposed nipples growing hard in the cold air.
Sara lay there moaning and squirming, still fingering herself even as the changes tapered off. But she slowed and then stopped herself before reaching her climax. She got to her feet, deftly and gracefully, aided by her newly reduced weight and increased fitness. The loose pants fell right off of her hips, crumpling around her ankles and she stepped out of them daintily.
She was horny, but she didn’t need to get off just yet, she thought, sucking on her fingers again, her huge tits heaving. There would be plenty of opportunities tonight…
With only the tattered remains of her blouse covering her tight, perfect body, Sara let out a lustful purr and stalked out of the kitchen on her long, bare legs.