PGAD
9.
Fucking whore.
Sara berated herself as she stood in front of the mirror, back at home. She yanked the oversized blazer off again, throwing it into the corner with rage and disgust. She was left looking at herself, sweaty and disheveled, barely covered by the tattered remains of her blouse.
What the fuck is wrong with you?!
It had been like snapping out of a trance. She’d come down from her second or third orgasm, each of them hitting in rapid fire succession as Chris the lab technician had ejaculated inside of her. She’d climbed off slowly, panting, groaning as his softening member slid out of her. It had been at that moment that her sanity had returned, and she was immediately mortified. She’d fucked some lab tech, right there at work, in the Gen-U-Tech fricking basement. They hadn’t used protection and he’d cum right inside of her. She could get pregnant. He could have some STD. What the fuck had she been thinking?!
She couldn’t remember what she’d said, if anything at all, as she’d hurriedly tried to cover herself up, picking the blazer up off the floor and pulling it on, barely remembering to snatch up the tablet before she rushed out.
She’d driven home furiously, face burning with shame and self-loathing. This was her fault, all of it. Her driven personality did not allow her to deflect blame, not at least to herself. Sure, she’d gotten the shaft, she’d been injected with the goddamn nanites and clearly someone was trying to fuck with her—what else was new? She’d had all sorts of roadblocks thrown up in her path on the way to the top, and she’d always risen to the occasion.
She might have had her libido cranked up without her knowledge or consent, but everything else that followed was all on her. She didn’t have to give in to her urges like some mindless animal and suck off the lab tech. She was the one that chose to transform herself into this blonde, big-titted harlot, without a thought to the repercussions, leaving her stuck like this for at least the rest of the weekend. No one made her screw that pathetic lab tech like some common tramp. All of that was on her.
You dumb, fucking whore, she thought again, glaring at the reflection.
It was one thing indulging herself in the bathroom, in the privacy of her home. Idiotic as it’d been to do, altering herself would’ve been somewhat excusable if no one had found out about it. Even sucking off the lab tech that first time could be rationalized to some extent, having only just been thrust into the situation without any time to get a handle on things. But then to go back there and screw him...
Look at you... The stranger in the mirror held a look of contempt on her gorgeous face. Her long, blonde hair was still damp and disheveled from in her impromptu romp session. Her large breasts were practically hanging out of her torn shirt, generous cleavage showing, her nipples barely concealed.
Big, slutty tits on display like a skank…
Sara reached up and tore the remains of her ruined shirt from her body, doing so easily with the newfound strength of her fit muscles. Her high-set tits still glistened with the perspiration from her earlier exertions.
Her eyes drifted lower to her flat, toned midsection. This smoking hot, perfect body, and she’d just given it away to that pathetic scrub, letting him put his hands all over her. Wanting him to. Letting him stick his prick in her tight, blonde pussy...
Such a filthy little whore…
She hadn’t just let him fuck her; she had thrown herself at him. Debased herself. Just like the first time, when she’d gotten down on her knees and serviced him. Only this time, she’d milked his cock with her cunt, squeezed it and rubbed it and coaxed it with her tight folds, until he nutted inside of her…
All of his jizz is oozing out of your pussy right now…
It was true. There was a big wet spot right at the crotch of the loose, too short pants and she undid the button angrily before sliding them down and flinging them after the blazer with an agitated kick of one of her long legs. She could see now that her lubrication mixed with Chris’ semen was running down her slim thighs.
You nasty, dirty, eager fucking whore…
Sara slid two fingers inside of her sticky, dripping slit, fucking herself with a snarl on her pretty face.
The doorbell rang, and Sara was simultaneously elated and disappointed. She watched through the doorbell camera as the delivery man dropped the package off on her porch and drove away before she opened the door and brought the large, light box in.
She had passed the remainder of the morning away in what ended up being an extended pleasure session, and by the time she’d finished, Sara felt a good deal less angry with herself. Still, the prospect of being shut-in for the weekend, again by her own doing, was a grating reminder of her poor decisions.
Why did she have to stay shut-in, though, she’d wondered abruptly. All she had to do was avoid anyone she knew and no one would be the wiser. Even if she did run into someone, she was virtually unrecognizable. In fact, wasn’t there one of those corporate networking events later tonight? Sara hadn’t been to one of those in years, but that only made it more ideal for the circumstances—no one there would be familiar with her or what she normally looked like.
But only a moment later, Sara was shaking her blonde head at herself, marveling over the fact that she was even contemplating such a terrible idea. She was already in a deep enough hole as it was, fueled mainly by her own bad choices. Did she really want to go out and make it worse?
How, though, she countered herself. This wasn’t the same as showing up at Gen-U-Tech. She’d be going to an event where she didn’t know anyone and didn’t even look like herself. She would be free to say or do whatever she wanted, and by Monday she’d be restored back to her normal self, and the mysterious blonde woman from Friday would be gone, never to be seen again.
But as enticing as that idea was, Sara soon realized she had another, more pedestrian problem—she had literally nothing to wear. She cringed a bit at the thought of donning another outfit designed for someone of completely different proportions to go shopping for clothes that actually did fit, and started shopping online instead.
She hadn’t actually decided on going, but still it was fun to browse around, in an idle daydreaming sort of way. She recognized that this fantasizing was dangerously similar to how she’d started modifying herself with the tablet—and just look at how that had turned out.
Online shopping was innocuous by comparison, though, and Sara had really enjoyed herself. For one, she usually found clothes shopping to be a stressful and depressing task, looking for outfits that made her look slimmer than she really was or at least didn’t highlight her worst attributes. Many times there wasn’t even anything in her size. Now, she was looking at all kinds of things that she would never consider wearing under ordinary circumstances, both because of her new proportions as well as the anonymity she’d have while wearing it.
In the end, she’d wound up with an online cart full of items of varying sizes and lengths, just in case. She had the money for it, why not spend it after all? She selected same-day delivery for an exorbitant amount, though the website informed that orders placed in the afternoon couldn’t be guaranteed to arrive the same day, and otherwise wouldn’t be delivered until Monday. That had actually given her a small measure of comfort that the decision wasn’t entirely up to her; if the order didn’t arrive, well, she couldn’t go.
But now here it was, and the conflicted decision had been made for her: Sara was going out tonight.
She brought the box upstairs and opened it, pulling out each of the dresses, laying them on the bed one at a time, then all of the shoes, most of them some variation of strappy, open-toed heels. How fun it had been shopping, knowing her exact shoe size, her exact measurements, precisely as she’d entered them in the tablet. The website had been very good about indicating whether items were true to size, it was a delight to slip into each new pair of shoes as perfectly fitted as Cinderella and her glass slipper.
The dresses were even more enjoyable; as she tried them on, one after another, it was the polar opposite of what she was accustomed to. Rather than trying to find something that was somewhat flattering, that made her look the least fat, each dress was stunning and she only had to decide which one made her look the absolute best. She tried on extra tight, extra skimpy ones, and recalled all the various times she’d rolled her eyes at the young, skinny little social climbing tramps in similar dresses she’d seen at events, getting tons of attention and very little respect. She tried on overly elaborate, long gowns that belonged more at a ball than a networking event. It had always been the older, middle managers who wore those; events like these were the highlight of their sad, pathetic lives.
In the end, Sara picked a pretty black, open-backed dress with spaghetti straps that criss-crossed across the back and a hem that ended slightly above mid-thigh. It was somewhat trampy, true, but it wasn’t as though her shapely rear would be exposed if she bent over a millimeter. At any rate, she had all the assets to pull off a dress like this, and it showed. Or maybe it was the opposite; the dress showcased her as if it had been custom made. It wasn’t skin-tight, but instead gently clung to the curves of her svelte hips and flat belly. The open back was mostly covered by her long, golden tresses, but it was still cut low enough to show the thin straps criss-crossing over her toned back muscles before tastefully tapering at the small of her back.
She would have looked shapely, delicate, if a little edgy and risque if the effect had not been eclipsed by her enormous bust. There was no helping that. No matter which dress she tried on, those full, round, gravity-defying globes filled the front, bulged at the sides, straining, threatening to burst out. In that regard, this little black dress was as good as any, providing a good amount of coverage, while showing ample but not excessive cleavage; it was just that the sheer size of her chest could not be minimized in any way. And indeed, it was conversely the only similarity that Sara encountered during her mini-shopping spree; she couldn’t find a bra in her current size, not that one could be worn with a dress like this anyway.
She didn’t need it though, she noted, as she turned side to side, admiring herself in the mirror, as she had done so often during these past few days. Even without support, there was no hint of a sag, her fit, supple body carrying her voluminous chest with ease. She ran her hands over the sleek fabric, feeling the heft of her new breasts, shivering slightly as they brushed up against her sensitive nipples, covered only by the thin cloth. She glanced at the clock, a feeling of excitement and anticipation growing within.
Sara turned heads the moment she got out of her expensive coupe in front of the hotel. The valets had a brief, subdued shoving match over who would get to come over and take the keys from her, and the doorman unabashedly ogled her from head to toe as he held the thick, heavy glass door open for her.
The event was held in the upscale hotel lounge just off the lobby desk. Sara had arrived later than she’d intended, having lost track of time getting dressed and primped. As a result, the table set up at the front of the lounge to greet arriving attendees was empty and unmanned, holding only a handful of name tags inside of plastic sleeves, attached to lanyards bearing the logo of the vendor sponsoring the event, displaying the names of other tardy guests or no shows. Not bothering to look for her own name, Sara picked one up at random and slipped it on around her neck before entering the roped-off area in the back, reserved for the event which held a mid-sized gathering.
It was just like being back at the Gen-U-Tech lab, only times a hundred. The instant attention Sara commanded, the allure and attraction was palpable. Every male head and quite a few female ones too turned in her direction as she made her way through the room. Already comfortable in heels, she strode with even more confidence afforded by the strength and fitness of her new shapely legs. She could feel her bust jiggling and bouncing with every step, practically soliciting stares of open lust.
It was a presence she had never held: a power to control the room effortlessly, a quality of being truly exceptional, obvious with but a glance. Sara reveled in it, enthralled by the feeling and most of all was completely turned on by it.
She made her way to the bar, leaning on it lightly, knowing that the majority of the eyes in the room were fixed on her perfectly proportioned rear. The bartender was in the middle of mixing a drink, but still gave her an appreciative glance, and she smiled inwardly knowing that she would be the very next customer served. But even in that brief amount of time, she was approached by a middle aged man, wearing khaki slacks and a short sleeve button shirt.
“H-hhello, I’m uh, I’m Phil, one of the event organizers,” the man stammered. “I, uh… I just saw you walking in and joining us, uh...”
He glanced down at her name tag, hanging between her magnificent breasts, his eyes popping out and beads of sweat breaking out at the edge of his moderately receding hairline. “Ummm.. Stephanie! It’s so very nice to meet you! Thank you for attending!”
His voice went up half an octave as he spoke faster with increasing nervousness. “Can I uhh… Can I get you a drink?”
“Aren’t you just the nicest?” Sara responded. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to one of these. I’ll have a white wine, please.”
Phil made a fumbling attempt at small talk in the short time it took for the bartender to saunter over, giving a knowing smirk as he took the order from Phil and returned with a generous pour of chardonnay. By then, a few other men had come over, under the pretense to talk to Phil, each of them falling over themselves to make introductions to Sara and chat her up.
She basked in the attention. She didn’t have a moment alone, no time that she was standing there trying to time a break in the conversation to insert a remark, everyone instead hanging on her every word. There was no awkwardly standing at the edge of a group, formulating how to make some lame introduction; she was at the center of a constantly shifting group of people trying to get closer to her. Over an hour later, having accepted every drink she was offered, Sara was developing a heady buzz, which she never did as a rule at any social event, wanting to maintain strict control over her senses, her words and therefore her image. But today she was totally relaxed, utterly free of any consequence or judgment as “Stephanie”.
Even as the event began to wind down and people filtered out, there was still a sizable group of entranced admirers chatting with each other while checking her out from the corners of their eyes or else standing around, laughing heartily at any halfway witty remark she made.
She was leaning more than sitting up against a backless chair at the bar, as much as her little black dress allowed for, her long legs elegantly crossed, as she threw her head back, blonde hair cascading behind her, laughing at a rather inappropriate joke offered by one of the guests named Ted, a pharmaceutical sales rep. He looked the part of a sales guy, tall and not bad looking, but slightly skeezy with a flashy suit, dark tan and too-white teeth. It was the kind of guy that Sara had always half-despised but also, deep down enough inside that she could barely admit to it, somehow wanted validation from. This was the type of man who would give a high-powered executive like Sara all the greasy attention and flattering compliments in the world, but then leave the event with some young, drunk administrative assistant.
Being a sales guy, Ted was good at making chit-chat, but coming from the same industry, they actually did have a lot in common, and the conversation flowed easily and effortlessly. She wasn’t sure at what point she found herself all alone with him at the bar, the remaining last few of the event’s participants having given up the competition for her exclusive attention and reluctantly calling it a night.
Sara was thinking it was her time to make an exit as well, but she was enjoying herself, and couldn’t help but notice the way she kept playing with her own hair without even thinking about it, how both of them were making and holding eye contact for longer and longer as they spoke. The arousal within, already turned up higher than usual, moved up a few more notches…
“Excuse me,” Sara said, straightening up. “Ladies room…”
She turned and headed for the restroom, swaying slightly. She was drunker than she’d realized before she started moving, the room swimming. As she walked out of the reserved section, she passed the length of the bar that held a few other people sitting and having drinks, presumably hotel guests and not there for the event. Passing a pair of guys, both of them paused mid-conversation, their heads swiveling, tracing her steps as she entered the ladies’ room.
“Goddamn,” one of them said audibly, just as the door swung shut.
Sara used the toilet, then washed up and lingered in front of the mirror, touching up her lipstick and tossing her hair. She still couldn’t believe that this pretty blue-eyed, blonde, with a body to kill for in that fabulous dress before her was her own reflection. It was no wonder that every man tonight was drawn to her like a magnet—it’d be impossible for anyone with a pulse not to be.
All of the attention was just so unfamiliar, too much to take in; she was feeling hornier than ever. Sara had half a mind to go back to the toilet stall and rub one out, but she was much more aware now, more in control of herself in light of the morning’s events. While it was difficult to truly relive the feelings of shame and self-disgust she’d felt directly after leaving Gen-U-Tech earlier today, she was still resolved to not be ruled by her body’s urges and repeat anything similarly scandalous. Masturbating in a hotel bar bathroom was definitely not in line with that.
Just go home, she told herself, hazily through the wine-induced fog. Or at least, until you get into the privacy of your own car…
In spite of her newfound determination, she smiled a little at that naughty thought, still watching herself in the mirror, running her tongue over her thick, full lips, shiny and wet-looking from the sheen of her freshly applied lipstick. She shivered slightly, tempted again to go back to the stall, but then, taking a hold of herself with an abrupt shake of the head, turned and left the bathroom.
As she walked back to bid Ted goodbye and get going, she passed the pair of guys at the bar again, only this time the one facing her reached out, catching her by one of her delicate wrists.
“Hey, hang on a second there, gorgeous,” he said.
Not that it was at all a frequent occurrence, but ordinarily, Sara would have been annoyed, bordering on angry at being grabbed like this, but this time, for whatever reason, the man’s touch was electrifying. His back had been to her on the way to the restroom, but facing him now, she saw that he was actually very good looking, dark-haired but eyes as blue as her own. He let go of her, his fingertips sliding across her soft skin until he was holding her by the hand instead.
“Why don’t you sit down and have a drink with us,” the handsome guy asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.
“I’m sorry, but I was just leaving,” Sara replied, feeling even warmer and redder than she already was from all of the alcohol. She lightly, reluctantly pulled her hand away.
“Aww, well that’s a shame… Stephanie.” The man’s nice, sexy eyes lingered for a long time around the general vicinity of the name tag hanging around her neck.
“It is, isn’t it?” Sara agreed, slurring slightly. She gave him a glance over her shoulder as she turned away.
“We’re here all week..!” he called after her.
“Damn, well, I tried...” She heard him say as he turned back to his buddy. She could feel both of their eyes on her as she made her way back to the far end of the bar.
“Making new friends?” Ted asked easily, more amused than jealous. He really was a practiced charmer, and never seemed to not know what to say. Sara felt hotter still, and waved him off embarrassedly. It was with some reluctance that she picked up her glass and downed the remainder of her drink, saying that she needed to get going.
“Well, hang on a minute,” Ted frowned. “You can’t leave now, you’re not in any condition to drive.”
There actually was quite a bit of truth to that. Her intoxicated brain slowly wandered through the hypotheticals. If she, as her regular self, were to get pulled over for drunk driving, that alone could potentially be career-ending. She was sufficiently high profile enough at Gen-U-Tech to warrant media coverage even. That ignored the fact that tonight it would be “Stephanie” behind the wheel, who didn’t remotely resemble the photo or stats on the driver’s license in Sara’s wallet. How would she even attempt to explain that? She envisioned being disastrously detained down at the police station, unable to even prove who she was…
“I think you’re right,” Sara eventually replied. “Maybe I should switch to water and hang out for a while.”
“Smart girl,” Ted affirmed, as he held a hand up to flag the bartender down. He asked for a glass of water and the check, handing over a company credit card.
“You know, I’ve got a room booked here for tonight,” he mentioned casually, as he filled out the receipt, leaving a hefty tip and signing at the bottom with a flourish. “We don’t have to hang around down here while you sober up, if you want to be more comfortable…”
“I don’t think so, Ted,” Sara responded, with a wry smile of her own.
“Hang on, hang on, don’t tell me you’ve got the wrong idea..!” He donned an offended look. “I just thought maybe you’d want to step out of those uncomfortable heels for a little bit and watch TV or something.
“Besides,” he added. “Don’t be so full of yourself. You’re not really my type. FYI…”
Sara laughed louder than she otherwise would have if she hadn’t been so drunk.
“You really are a charmer, aren’t you?!” she asked as Ted steered them out the lounge and towards the lobby elevators. The pair of guys still drinking at the bar enviously watched them go.