Office Politics

By DX
Copyrighted 2/2007, 2024 all rights reserved.

 Lucille leaned back in her chair with a happy sigh as a smug grin of satisfaction spread across her face. She admired the stark, white walls of her new office as she made plans for the money from her salary raise to decorate them. With her new position, she would be able to afford a lot more things.

 She peered through her open door and watched Kimberly make her rounds. Lucille smiled devilishly, then forced the expression from her face. She scanned her desk quickly, snatched up a blank piece of paper, stuffed it into an inter-office envelope and sealed it up.

 "Kimmy," She called cooly. "might I see you in my office?"

 The blonde girl nodded, parking her mail cart by the door. "Yeah, Luce?"

 Lucille's face darkened slightly. "Kimmy, it is inappropriate to address management in such a familiar tone."

 Kimberly pursed her lips as she thought. "I'll keep that in mind in case I meet any management, Luce."

 Lucille sniffed contemptuously. "Kimmy, I realize that we've had a bit of history together, but I must impress upon you to remember that I did receive the promotion over you." Lucille interlaced her fingers, her long, lacquered fingernails of blood forming a row of spikes. "I am your superior and I will be treated as such." Her voice bit vehemently, then softened. "Don't make my first act to be reprimanding you."

 The blonde girl scoffed. "The only reason you got the promotion is because I could not make the review board in time."

 Lucille straightened, stung. "If the position meant anything to you, you would have made the effort to show up." Her voice dripped with venom.

 "My car broke down." Kimberly's voice leveled, accusingly. "The plug from my oil pan mysteriously vanished and my engine seized. By time I was able to get a cab, I was too late for the board."

 Lucille's face dropped, looking innocent. "Well, I know nothing about cars or engines, but you should have allotted yourself more time..."

 "Know nothing about cars or engines?" Kimberly rebuked quickly, hotly. "We took auto-shop together in college. You got an 'A'!"

 Lucille sat back in her chair, clearly unnerved. "I don't know what you're trying to infer, but the bottom line is that I got the job." She leaned back in her seat, her smile and confidence returning. "And if you want to get anywhere on the corporate ladder, you should show a little respect." Lucille's eyes darkened like a praying mantis considering its prey. "Perhaps you should learn a little about office politics. Making an enemy out of me isn't a good start."

 Kimberly laughed breathlessly. "Sure, Luce. Is there something you wanted?"

 Lucille had almost forgotten. She snatched up the inter-office mail and held it out. "Take this to Diane in accounting right away." She ordered, her smugness returning.

 "Sure thing, Luce." Kimberly took the envelope. "Enjoy it while you can."

 Lucille flinched as her smug expression drained. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 "Oh, I'm sure you've heard that Steve in acquisitions is retiring this month." Kimberly said, offhandedly.

 "Of course I heard about that," She hadn't. "but isn't that an executive position?"

 Kimberly nodded, looking about the tiny office. "And his office has a window." Kimberly smiled at her boss. "With a view."

 Lucille's eyes focused threateningly. "What makes you think you'll get that position?"

 Kimberly frowned slightly, pouting as she thought. "For starters, I am qualified for the job. Secondly, Dan is doing the interview personally." Kimberly gave herself a little hug, making her breasts bulge. "And you know he can't resist a little cleavage."

 Lucille scowled as he face drained of pallor. "Well, I think it will take a little more than a C cup to make him give you the job."

 "Actually, they're a D, and I've got that covered."

 Lucille leaned forward, her brow arching suspiciously. "What, are you getting a boob job?"

 The blonde smiled scandalously. "A little office politic campaigning."

 "Really?" Lucille sat up. "And how can you afford plastic surgery on your meager salary?"

 Kimberly's face lit up as she leaned in close, her voice lowered. "You know Michelle up in personnel?"

 Lucille sensed hot gossip and was drawn in like a shark to blood. Everyone knew Michelle. She was a tall goddess in killer pumps whose fashion model looks could enslave men with a glance. She could be on the runway as a super model save that her massive breasts and juicy curves would not fit in the anorexic world of modeling. Lucille had watched her like every woman, with loathe and envy. "Michelle had plastic surgery?" She whispered.

 Kimberly snorted a laugh. "She used to be a man!"

 "No way!"

 "Yes way. Her doctor is this guy up from Brazil. He's doing low budget procedures because he hasn't gotten his license in this country yet." Kimberly smiled, coyly. "So, he's going to add a cup to my chest and smooth out some lines. He says he can take five to seven years off my face."

 "Take seven years off your face and you'll look like you're fourteen." Lucille mumbled sardonically.

 "We're talking Dan here. Fourteen's a little old for him." Kimberly rose and turned, showing her profile. "A little lypo here," She laid her hand on her already flat tummy. "and a little added back here for some nice curve," She patted her rump. "and Dan will be a blithering idiot." Kimberly regarded Lucille in the suddenly silence. "You know, you could stand to have a little work done and smooth out those Crow's Feet."

 Lucille's hand reflexively shot up to the corner of her eye, almost trying to hide. She managed a weak smile. "I prefer to earn my promotions on merit."

 Kimberly breathed a silent, mocking laugh. "That would be a change in tactics for you." She looked around the stark, plain office walls. "That'll get you right to the top, I’m sure.” She held up the envelope Lucille gave her to deliver. "Since I'm leaving early today, I'll be sure to get this to accounting before I leave. My procedure is tomorrow morning at six."

 "All that in one day?"

 Kimberly shrugged. "It's not all that. Besides, the man is good."

 "A miracle worker."

 "Ha, ha." Kimberly said, dryly. "I'll be on three weeks vacation time to recover, and then my interview with Dan will be right after that." She smiled brightly. "See you around, Luce."

 Lucille sneered more than smiled and gave a half wave as Kimberly left. Lucille picked up the phone to look busy, pretending Kimberly’s taunt fell on deaf ears. Once the blonde was out of sight, Lucille hung up the phone, her eyes dark and brooding. A small smile crept onto her lips as she picked up the phone again.

 "Hello, Michelle? This is Lucille! Lucille from downstairs. Yes, that Lucille. You know I just recalled that I owe you a lunch. Yes, I'm sure. What say I even the score. I can meet you downstairs at Noon. Yes, yes, I owe you a lunch, I'm very sure. We should get to know each other. Besides, why turn down a free lunch?"

 Dawn had yet to cast its gentle light on the darkened street. The tall shadowy buildings rose like fortress walls, their forlorn, cracked and broken windows gazing silently down to the vacant lot below.

 Lucille shuddered as she parked her car beneath the only working light in the parking lot. As she stepped from the security of her car, she glanced around nervously. Her car, old and well used looked pristine compared to the other cars in the lot. She locked it, then checked that it was locked, then made her way quickly across the lot to the dark door. She had pumped Michelle for information to the point of using subtle threats of exposing her past as a man. Michelle reluctantly gave Lucille directions to The Miracle Worker.

 "Talk about your back door surgeries." Lucille mumbled as she reached for the bell. She hesitated, wondering if what she was doing was worth it. She set her lips and pressed the greasy button. Earlier that morning, Lucille snuck over to Kimberly's apartment and put a nick in the brake lines of her car. With the steep hills in that neighborhood, Kimmy was going to need a little more than plastic surgery. 

 Lucille sighed sharply. She was in deep now.

 She flinched and yelped as the door buzzed angrily at her. Trying to slow her quickly beating heart, she pushed open the door and stepped into the darkness beyond. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom. She stepped forward and found the elevator. As the door slid open, the stench of urine assaulted her. The elevator rattled like a haunted house as it climbed up, then opened to a shadowy hall.

 Fear clutched her heart as she walked down the dimly lit hall to the double doors at the end. There was no sign, no indication that this rat infested building was anything of a clinic. Lucille again hesitated at the door as the idea of sterile conditions came to mind.

 "A healthy dose of penicillin can handle any infection." She whispered as she reached for the dented and pitted door knob.

 The door swung open easily and Lucille blinked, blinded by the bright light. When she could see, she took in the warm, fresh painted walls and breathed in the clean air scented with antiseptic.

 Behind the glass desk, typing on her laptop, the receptionist peered up. "Senorita Kimberly?"

 Lucille was stunned silent by the woman's youth and beauty. Her friendly, but exotic dark eyes, sculpted full lips and delicate chin were captivating. She could never be a model. She was too pretty to look at. No one would pay any attention to any product she was selling.

 "May I help you?" The woman asked again.

 Lucille was jolted from her revery. "Ah, si, yes, I am Kimberly." Michelle had told her that everything was done through phone calls and e-mails. Lucille gambled that the doctor would have no idea what Kimberly looked like so posing would be easy.

 The receptionist held out a clip board. "Please fill these out and sign here. Your payment has already been processed."

 Lucille grinned as she took a seat and filled out the form using Kimberly's name, but used her own medical history and allergies. With that done, Lucille was escorted to another room, not as pretty as the reception area, where a nurse in full surgical scrubs and mask greeted her and gave her a gown to put on. Lucille tried to catch a glimpse of the woman. She was blonde with lovely blue eyes, but her mask covered everything else.

 The nurse took Lucille's clothes away as the doctor came in. He chittered quickly in Spanish and Lucille assumed he wanted her naked. When she opened her gown, the doctor took a marker and drew on her body where he was going to cut. He then sketched lines on her face. Lucille realized that Kimberly was having more than just a minor procedure done.

 As the doctor finished, the blonde nurse wheeled in a gurney and motioned for Lucille to lay down. The doctor then swabbed Lucille's arm and gave her a shot. He then put an intravenous shunt into her arm. The nurse wheeled Lucille into the operating theater.

 Large lights hovered over head, blinding Lucille. Trays and tables covered in green cloth surrounded her. Hoses and tubes sprang from everywhere. Lucille was wheeled into the center of it all.

 The nurse said something in Spanish, and Lucille, nervousness building, nodded dumbly. The nurse smiled beneath her mask. "No Espanol?"

 "Uh, I took it in highschool a few years ago." Actually, she had cheated off of Kimberly.

 The nurse nodded, understanding. "The shot the doctor gave you is a sedative. It will make you very sleepy. This procedure requires full anesthesia."

 Lucille did feel sleepy and her limbs grew heavy. She watched submissively as the nurse ran straps across her wrists. As she strapped her feet down, the nurse explained, "Can't risk you sleep walking." The nurse stood back and glanced through the open door. "The doctor is scrubbing up and the anesthesiologist will be here in a minute." The nurse looked down at Lucille, patting her hand reassuringly. "Just relax, Kimberly, the doctor is very experienced in this type of surgery. Although you have chosen a very extensive and extreme procedure, the doctor is confident you will be pleased with the results."

 The words, extreme and extensive pushed a spike in Lucille's mind. What did Kimberly sign up for?

 The nurse moved a tray over. "These breast implants are imported. This country will not allow any this big to be used." Lucille blinked, fighting the affects of the sedative as she looked at two grey, lucid plastic forms the size and shape of beach balls. Lucille tried to speak but with the sedative in her system, she could only moan.

 The nurse patted her arm gently. "Oh, don't worry. These are not your implants." Lucille breathed a sigh of relief. "These are only to stretch the skin." The nurse went on, pulling back another cloth revealing two massive bags of silicone, sparkling in the light. "These will be your permanent implants, the finest and highest quality I might add. It should give you the ninety inch bust line that you requested."

 Lucille's eyes grew wide as plates. Ninety inches!

 "Now, I know you were thinking bigger," The nurse went on, "But I think that after we remove some of your ribs," The nurse pointed to Lucille's side where the doctor had marked. "and several yards of your small intestine and most of your stomach and large intestine, and bring your waist size down to a fourteen, your breasts will look sensational."

 Lucille tried to struggle, but the sedative was at full effect. Kimberly had signed up to be a freak!

 The nurse held up a tray with a silicone doughnut. "These will be your lip implants. I can't imagine how you'll be able to talk after this, but it is what you ordered.”  She shrugged.  “Your teeth will be removed, and your jaw pinned open.”  She looked at markings on Lucille.  “And your vagina?  Crazy!  Utterly gone.  You will be incapable of experiencing pleasure ever again.”

 "Stop," Lucille struggled to talk, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm not Kimberly." Every word was a struggle but she forced back the effects of the drug. "It's a mistake."

 Lucille looked up as another man, swabbed in surgical scrubs came in.

 "Stop," She moaned. "Please, don't do this."

 "Que?" He asked and the nurse answered him in Spanish. The man nodded and gave Lucille a thumbs up. "All okay!" He said as he picked up the black rubber anesthesia mask and strapped it to Lucille's face.

 "Just breathe normally." The nurse instructed.

 Lucille tried to protest as the world swirled into darkness. "No, wait," Her voice was muffled by the mask.

 The nurse leaned in close and whispered into Lucille's ear. "Perhaps you should not have cheated off me during Spanish class."

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Copyrighted 2/2007, 10/2024 all rights reserved. 

Used with permission, Gag Order.

Daddy

by DX

Copyrighted, 9/2024 all rights reserved.  Story may not be reproduced in any format without previous written permission from the author.

 She was bubblegum and candy.  She had puffy, petulant lips and a button nose.  She was petite and slim, with perky firm breasts she liked to display through her flimsy tube top emblazoned with the words, Daddy’s Little Girl. 

 She had playful tattoos of teddybears and unicorns.

 For her, everything was fun.

 She was sprinkle cupcakes and rainbows.  She was a pink forest nymph in short-shorts and sandals with a magic of wand of glitter.

 We had to get rid of her.

 Every season someone arrived in the logging camp who was wholly unprepared for the hard and dangerous work of felling trees.  Most were tree-huggers who didn’t understand that a properly managed forest was healthy for the environment and provided renewable resources, and only wanted to wreck things claiming to save the planet.  They usually weeded themselves out within the first few days when they discovered saving the planet involved walking up a hill and no social media.  The remainder actually wanted to be lumberjacks, enthralled with the romantic idea of manliness, until they discovered the high rate of amputations.

 Every once in a while we got someone like Pink, charmed by woods and nature and cycle of life but sadly, too delicate for the job.  People like her are the weak link in the chain, and weak links caused injuries.

 So when Pink stepped off the bus, giggling and cooing, no one was surprised when Boss Eve took one look at the bouncing fluff-ball of joy and assigned her to me.  

 My job was to get her back on the bus and on her way home before she got hurt, or worse, hurt someone else.

 Officially, I was to get her up to speed on doing the job properly and above all, safely.  I have resting grump face and permanent, glaring eyes of disapproval.  My heavy beard fails to hide my scars, earned over a life of hard work.  

 The bets were on that Pink would be on the morning bus for home.

 I planned for her to be gone sooner than that.

 I started with showing her how to identify Black Widow Spider webs, where Brown Recluses like to live, and how to treat for a Copper Head bite, followed by the many ways loggers get their arms ripped off, or the legs mangled, and how to avoid all of those things.

 While the safety briefing alone usually drove off the pretenders, Pink wasn’t phased in the least.

 She didn’t flinch when I showed her the first aid kit which included tourniquets and a bone saw.  She only nodded, smiled sunshine at me and cooed excitedly, “Yes, Daddy.”

 “Don’t call me, Daddy.”  I responded gruffly.

 In twenty-four hours my new nick-name in camp was Big Daddy.  Even Eve started calling me Big Daddy.

 I took Pink to the thrift store where we got her proper clothes and boots, and I kept the receipt knowing we would be bringing them all back the next day.

 But we didn’t.

 The smallest equipment looked huge on her small frame, but properly decked out, we started her training.

 She paid close attention when I pointed out the poison ivy, oak, and sumac, and she quickly learned the knots every woodsman knows, practicing earnestly with the six foot cord I gave her.  She learned how to field strip a two stroke, sharpen an axe, and how to find North with a watch and a stick.

 She learned to use her tools.  Although cumbersome and heavy, she hauled them up the slope with determination, and in a few, short weeks, she began to put on lean muscle, which she liked to show off, flexing when she caught me looking.

 I couldn’t help but think she was showing off only for me.  Although she flirted outrageously with everyone, she seemed to have a special glance for me alone.  I dismissed it as an old grump’s folly, but it was hard to dismiss whenever there was a muster she was beside me, close to me, brushing against me.  When I looked down, she was always looking up at me, her huge eyes searching for details on my leathery face.  Her proximity to me quickly became normal, expected.  At chow she always sat next to me, and her warm body quickly became familiar.  “More coffee, Daddy?”  She would ask.  “How about an apple for the trail, Daddy?”

 “Don’t call me Daddy.”  I would reply as I put the apple in my cargo pocket.

 As for being on the team, Pink stepped up and proved she was as tough as all the guys.  When they got boisterous, she would just giggle and be coy and cute and diffuse any situation.  

 She instantly mastered the small back hoe.  Soon the guys would ask for my partner specifically, and she would nimbly drive that thing up the steepest, narrowest trail.  “Who called for a hoe?”  She’d announce as she arrived with a big smile on her face.

 Even Boss Eve, a woman who hates women, clapped me on the shoulder.  “I guess your Little Girl Pink’s working out all right.”

 One early morning, just before sunrise, I watched Pink do the walk of shame from Georgie’s trailer.  Gerogie was the camp Lothario.  No woman, not even Eve, could resist his devilish looks and wild flirtatious glances, so it was no surprise seeing Pink sneak out of there.

 I guess it made everything official.  

 At that point I figured she would gravitate towards hanging out with Georgie, but every day she added her name to my roster, and everyday we headed out together, and every day the guys would giggle and smirk, “There’s goes Big Daddy and his Little Girl.”

 On days off, when we headed to town and eventually the bars, she would dress up in her pink short shorts and tight t-shirts.  She often caused a stir at the bar when she put money in the jukebox and took to the dance floor and did a one woman performance that sent many a man to a cold shower.  Occasionally, it caused a stir that usually required me getting up and giving everyone, The Look.  “We’re not going to have an issue, are we boys?”

 “No, Big Daddy.”  Everyone would murmur.  

 “Don’t call me Daddy.”  I would grunt, and go back to my beer.

 But I couldn’t help notice her dance as her lithe body gyrated to the music, almost making love to the melody.  I teased myself that she was dancing for me alone, a silly thought, but I couldn’t help it when I stole a glance from the corner of my eye I saw her looking back at me.

 On night, while Pink was racking up a big score on the pinball machine, Sol slid over to me at the bar.  “Why does she have to dress like that?”

 “‘Cause she wants too.”  I said.

 “Yeah, but it gives guys the wrong idea.”  He replied.

 I eyed him.  “Sounds like that’s their problem.”  I turned, and watched Pink at the machine.  “Besides, I heard she and Georgie.”

 Sol shrugged.  “Fuck that guy.”  He held up his beer.

 I touched my mug to his.  “Yup.  To his health.”

 To Sol’s point, the male to female ratio in the camp was steep, and you either hooked up elsewhere, or like me, learned to enjoy solitude.  Pink, with her unerring beauty, was a disruptive factor, but she found safe harbor with me.

 We were a team.

 Which was no surprise at the end of the season, when the snows threatened, she added her name to my roster to winterize the fire towers on the Ridge.  This meant taking the half-track up the fire road to all the fire towers.  The mission was to make sure the fire road was clear, pull down any big branches that would compromise the fire break, and service/repair/restock the fire towers.  

 Back in the day the fire towers were manned, I mean, attended, 24/7; a lonely post looking over the canopy of trees for the tell-tale signs of fire.  Now there’s cameras and central monitoring to handle that, but during emergencies the towers may be attended, possibly for long stays, so they needed food stuff, cots, a working stove, heat, water, toiletries, ect.  

 This was a tough job that had to be done correctly.  I often had to do it alone, which was why I liked it.  

 Pink was just plain excited.  This was a test of all of her skills.  There was no back up.  If the half track broke down, we had to fix it.  If one of us was injured, the other had to be the doctor.  We would be alone and isolated for a couple days or more, depending on the weather.

 Although I didn’t show it, I was happy to have her along.

 With the half-track loaded with building materials, food, fuel, roof shingles, nails, screws, and a kitchen sink we needed to install, we headed out before the dawn and made it to Alpha Tower before daybreak.  It was an easy service, but the real work was ahead of us.

 The road was shit.  The fire break was put in seventy years ago and the wheel ruts were so deep you didn’t have to steer.  Even though the half-track crawled at a snails pace, we were tossed around in the cabin as if we were trying to break a bronco.  Our first obstacle, a fallen tree, was hung up against another fallen tree and dangled precariously over head. 

 Trees like these were the worst.  In case of fire, they could form a bridge allowing fire to spread across the break so they had to be removed.  But falling them, tangled in a web of branches, made them unpredictable, and many expert lumberjacks met their fate dealing with them.

 Which was why we called them, Widowmakers.

 Pink got her climbing spikes and went up a nearby tree and cast a line to the widowmaker.  Pulling the rope through, she then connected a cable and fed that along, dropping the end to me where I connected it to the half-track winch.

 Getting to a safe distance, we pulled it down, sawed it up, and shoved it off the road.

 Goes easy when you’re a team.

 It took six hours to make ten miles to Bravo Tower.

 We were tired, but Pink gave me her little smile and we pressed on.  Bouncing over the rough trail, we made it to Charlie Tower by sundown.

 The storm was approaching.

 We secured our gear, battened down the hatches, lit a fire in the wood stove, and readied to hunker down.  For privacy, we hung up a curtain.  To save on fuel for the backup generator, we used kerosene lanterns.

 I gave myself a quick sponge bath, then dressed and headed out to the observation deck, whiskey in hand.  From there, above the trees, I watched the quickening night approach with the bubbling clouds of heavy weather in its wake.

 We were in for a wild one.

 I felt the thunder rattle my bones.

 As I sipped my whiskey, I wondered what was keeping Pink, and I looked back.

 Through the observation window, glowing from the lantern light, I saw her laid out on the futon, like one of those fancy, French paintings.

 She was naked, and beautiful, her face flush with passion.  Her eyes were closed and her full lips were parted as if she was tasting something sweet.  Her nipples were bursting with passion as her fingers played over her body. 

 It took a moment for me to realize, as her fingers toyed with her body, Pink, to my surprise, was not born a girl.

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The Perfect Bride
By DX
Copyrighted 8/2024

Adam signs up for a three month stint as a perfect date, but Barbra might have other plans.
Permanent bondage, Bimbofication, permanent chastity, 
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Pet Adrian

By DX

Copyrighted 2002, 7/2024, all rights reserved. 

After Adrian's third espousal abuse charge, the court remanded him to our custody. He was combative and unrepentant and fought with the police and guards. Even after he was placed in a padded cell, he continually lashed out.  Concerned for his safety, our guards reentered his cell and forcibly placed him in a straight jacket, leg binder, panel gag, and blindfold, and left him on the floor of his padded cell. 

After court review, and input from his wife Sally, the judge remanded him to be placed in the PFL program.  The Permanent Female Lead program is a life sentence, and is reserved for violent, misogynist males.  Adrian was placed under the guardianship of his wife, Sally.

Through court recommendation, Sally opted to use Chasti-Permalock products.  Chasti-Permalock uses nanites.  Nanites are microscopic machines that can provide a wide array of functions within a host, to include levels of chastity, or surgical alterations.  

Sally chose all permanent options for Adrian. 

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