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.

Sex Object
By DX

A woman transforms herself into the perfect bimbo for the sake of art!

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Copyrighted 10/2001, 2016, 2023 all rights reserved.

 Talia stood at the rear of the theater, shrouded in darkness.  The small, round room, ringed with over padded seats, was packed to capacity with all eyes on the brightly lit platform.  It was warm, at the brink of being uncomfortable, and the men, stuffy upper crust and proper, dressed in tails and canes, had already done away with their silk jackets, starched collars and strangling ties.  The women that dotted the crowd could sense the tension in the air.  Their blouses unbuttoned beyond respectability, and the tops of their breasts, gleamed in the dim light.  

 They were unaware of what was happening.

 Talia could taste it.

 The white roving shaft of the spot light appeared and cut the thin mist of cigar smoke.  Carefully, avoiding highlighting the faces in the audience, it scanned the archways.  Talia stepped deeper into the shadows and let it slip past her, somehow knowing its seemingly random pattern.  She didn't follow it, but instead watched the shadowy faces, the white sparkle reflected in their eyes.  She had performed the show a hundred times before, followed its progressing evolution.  Everything was planned, controlled, from the expensive cigar tobacco to the humidity and temperature, all calculated, recorded, and perfectly scientific.

 Everything was planned to entice the neither regions of the mind, a direct hardwired link to subconscious sexuality.

 They were already horny and didn't know it.

 They were here to see a show, performance art.  Little did they know they were to be the show and they were to do the performing.  The previous audiences through persuasion, or extortion, were sworn to secrecy, and would only share scripted hints and clues as to what the show was all about, so each new group with teased curiosity would be completely surprised to find themselves in a broiling, soul cleansing orgy of Bacchanal proportions.  

 Now, they were primed.  All they needed was a spark.

 On cue, Mistress entered the stage.

 The white disk of light crawled slowly up the wall and fixed on the curtained archway.  Royal purple folds parted to the gentle probe of Mistress’ delicate foot, painfully yet elegantly arched en-pointe, the shoe almost non-exist, provided only a spiny heel.  Her leg, longer than law allowed, was ivory in the harsh light.  She stepped forward and emerged fully to the gasp of the audience as the pungent, yet erotic odor of latex filled the room.  The women panted in sympathy at the corseted waist no bigger than a hand's breath resting atop her callipygous hips.  Her breasts dominated her presence, each one as big as a zeppelin, somehow suspended over her tiny frame, threatening to snap her in half.  Her nipples were shroud in heavy gold caps.  Titanium bolts pushed through the caps and pierced her delicate nipples, and then welded shut to insure her nipples were forever locked away. 

 Her neck, shrouded in steel, was stretched like an African Queen, her regal head rising majestically from her shoulder-less body. 

 Mistress had no arms.

 Her bemused smile took in her audience as her enchanting eyes flashed and spilled diamonds down her cheeks and cast her spell on her unsuspecting worshipers, lifting their attention from her body to pay homage to her incredible beauty.  Full sculpted lips, high carved cheeks, a near invisible dimpled chin, cascading scintillating wet tar hair and eyes that captured her audience and held them in their tiny prison.

 Mistress’ skin was flawless, smooth as porcelain and unbeknownst to them, completely made of rubber.

 From the special stage hidden fans gently blew puffs of air and spread her enhanced pheromones across the audience.  The audience was trembling, perspiring, squirming in their seats and she had yet to begin.

 From the darkness, a Romanian violin began to play and Mistress began to dance.  Slowly, stiffly yet fluid, her expression unchanged, and yet her eyes cast spears of fire.

 From the darkness, Talia nodded to Sacha and the young woman activated her video camera.  Its invisible inferred light took away the crowds anonymity and their eyes glowed like demons as their lust took possession of their bodies.

 Suddenly, a man climbed up on stage.  His shirt was stripped away and hung from his belt like a tattered sail.  He paused as he stood before Mistress, his shoulders rolled back, his head jutting forward with his square chin in the lead, his chest obscenely puffed out like a fighting rooster.  Mistress turned and danced for him, her breasts undulating for him, her eyes calling for him. 

 He yelped like a wolf when he grabbed her.  

 His hungry mouth sought hers and her breasts crushed against his chest.  From behind, another man grabbed her, his hands groping handfuls of her breasts for purchase, his mouth clamped like a vampire at the uncovered nape of her neck.  Talia recognized the man's wife.  She had stripped off her bra and crawled up onto the stage.  Her hands reached for her husbands pants.

 Backstage, Talia smiled as she watched Mistress.  Everything was going as it should, and it was going to be a good show.  She glanced at Sacha and nodded with a knowing smile.  It was important for Talia to show Sacha what it all should look like when everything clicked just right. 

 It was Talia's last show. 

 "I am an artist."  Mistress announced the first time Talia met her.  She moved delicately, like a dancer, around the exotic plants of the green room.  She pounced on the squares of falling sunlight like a child playing hopscotch.  Her arms outstretched for balance and her tiny breasts, only the size of bowling balls, jiggled tauntingly.  Her impish nose crinkled and her expansive eyes became glistening slits as she smiled. 

 Talia smiled weakly, a little embarrassed.  Her eyes respectively averted from Mistress' nude form.  "Yes, your husband mentioned that.  I have my references..."

 "He's not my husband." Mistress said quickly.  "He's my benefactor and the financial backer for my latest artistic endeavor.  Although he will sign your paycheck, your job will be to tend to me."  Mistress turned and leapt, spinning quickly.  Her foot suddenly caught and she stumbled ungainly forward, threatening to fall.  Talia quickly reached out to catch her, but Mistress pranced back like a ballerina.  "Ha! Made you look!"  She smiled.  "Come on, you're a nurse, you've seen naked women before."

 "Never at a job interview."  Talia said curtly, a little miffed.

 Mistress's eyes sharpened like a cat's.  "You must have had boring jobs. Would you hand me my robe?" 

 Talia looked at the rubber cape draped over the chair.  She picked it up and held it open so Mistress could turn and slip her arms into the long flowing sleeves.  Mistress turned, leaving the robe open and her breasts exposed, creating a contrast of shiny black and white skin.  "The job of an artist is to solicit an emotion from the audience.  In you, I have so far gotten embarrassment, fear, anger and possibly a little desire."  Mistress pulled the hem of her robe and stretched it tight across her heaving bosom and let her thumb thick nipples poke through.

 Talia blushed scandalously.

 Mistress winked.  "Am I good or what?"  She released her robe.  "I am going where no other artist has gone before.  I want to not only drag a reaction out of someone, I can do that in my sleep, but I want that response to leap out of them.  Control them.  Unfettered, unstoppable and primal."  Mistress sat down and crossed her legs.  "Fear is easy.  I had you leaping to save me from a fall.  But what is the most repressed, raw human emotion?"

 Talia shrugged. "Love?"

 Mistress smiled devilishly.  "Lust!  We all want it, but we steel ourselves from it.  Deny ourselves the one thing we want most.  We have walls and minefields around our libido.  Well, I plan to break those down."

 Talia's eyes were wide with wonder. "How?"

 Mistress smiled; her spell cast.  "Your job will be to care for me.  Feed me, clean me and put me to bed.  You have to care for all of my needs."

 "All?"

 "Except sex.  I plan to be raped several times a day.  In the name of art, of course."

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