Employee of the Month, Part 5

A Story Tier Prompt for Jack Mackenzie

Francis Howard is a young, cocky alpha male who is heir to his father's business empire. Promoted to head of marketing, he quickly earns the ire of his team for his chauvinistic and oppressive management style. But one day Francis discovers he has Lumin's Syndrome, a rare genetic condition that means his body is turning into a woman's. Francis races to fight the changes, before his reputation within the office takes on a very different dimension.

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Employee of the Month, Part 5

The staff was silent as they looked at the deeply attractive woman. Even if she hadn’t raised her voice, she certainly would have gained their attention: she looked like the hottest secretary any of them had ever seen. It didn’t matter that she had actually introduced herself as their boss; something about her just screamed sexy secretary. It was most likely the wide hips that stretched her pencil skirt and the busty D-cup breasts showing cleavage from the undone top button, neither of which were generally associated with respectable management.

Francine stood there, feeling utterly humiliated by their stares. She could feel Elijah’s eyes crawling over her body, but he was far from alone. How had she managed to let Clara get the better of her? This was insane!

“Like, are you guys gonna say anything?” she asked, giggling a little awkwardly. Where had that come from? She was meant to dominate the room, dammit!

It was Harvey who stood and stepped forward, extending a hand.

“Lovely to meet you, uh, Francine. I’m Harvey Eickerman, I’m the project head.”

She shook his hand, and despite herself, she couldn’t help but admire her employee’s strength and posture. She’d never noticed as Francis that Harvey was actually quite good looking. She brushed a hand through her hair, a little overcome.

“I know that Harvey - I mean, I read your file. I’m told you have deadlines around the corner, is that right?”

The mood settled a little more around them.

“Yeah, that’s true. But in all honesty, Francine - wow, what a coincidence on the names, huh?”

“Sure Harvey . . . a real coincidence.” She could hear Clara chuckling.

“Well, anyway, the truth is we’re behind schedule, but it isn’t the group’s fault. Frankly, Francis has been working us to the bone, and giving unrealistic dates. I’m not sure how much power you have to affect things, but we’d really appreciate if someone could cut us some slack and give us a week’s extension. Just one week would make all the difference, particularly for Elijah over there who has been working his butt off.”

“His butt?”

Francine’s female mind seemed to flutter, imagining the pudgier man’s rounded backside, and for some reason there was something oddly adorable about it. She shook her head. This fucking Lumin’s syndrome was turning her gay, or something. Or straight, for a woman. Or whatever!

“Uh, yeah,” Harvey said, noticing how her gaze was shifting. “He’s been working harder than anyone. Can you take it up with Francis. Something tells me that he’ll listen more to someone of your . . . type.”

His eyes took in her figure, and it was then that Francis realised she had slowly stepped a little closer towards the man. He was taller than her, and his dark hair was rugged, in a way. And he fit his shirt well.

“I’ll grant the extension!” she spluttered, loud enough for all to hear, trying desperately to get away from these weird thoughts. “One more week! Francis will, like, totally approve I’m sure!”

There was silence, and then, after a moment, a cheer went up through the office.

“Ma’am, you’re a damn hero in my book!” someone yelled.

“Alright, you heard her,” Harvey said, “we’ve got one more week. Let’s show the new boss we’re worthy of it. Man the stations, people!”

Harvey turned, and her heart fluttered again. She felt a strange flush across her form, almost a desire to draw even closer.

“Thanks, Francine, ma’am. It’s really good to meet you.”

He extended his hand, and once more she took it, shaking it. She held just a little longer, and he smirked a little until she realised what she was doing and she tore her hand away.

“Very good, Harvey. Get the men and women to work. I still, uh, expect results, okay?”

He smiled, indicated that she would see those results, and moved back to his cubicle. But not before turning around to eye her one more time. Francine had always enjoyed checking out a tight-fitting button shirt on a sexy woman in the office back when she’d been a man, but now she felt a man’s eyes linger on her form, even subtly. She could practically feel others doing much the same, taking in her shapely figure, her peach-shaped ass imprinting against the tight pencil skirt, her long stocking-covered legs in their high heels. She was a total office hottie, and that meant she was now realising exactly what it was like to feel like a piece of meat in a pit of sharks.

No, not a piece of meat. A damned minnow. So why did it make her nipples stiffen, just a little bit?

Clara sidled up next to her, grinning. “Well, Francine, I’d say that went rather well. Very different from your normal management style. Those female hormones are doing you a world of good, I’d say.”

“Shut up,” she spat up. She straightened her back, trying to be dominant, but it only made her shortness compared to Clara even more obvious. “I just - I just didn’t want them acting suspicious. Throw a dog a bone and he’ll play with it for a time and stay loyal. Business 101.”

Clara chuckled slightly. It was a cute look, but much to Francine’s dismay, she felt no attraction to it anymore. Only a vague sense of . . . no, it couldn’t be. Competition? She chalked it up to Clara’s manipulations making her irritated. They entered her office together; Clara had insisted on remaining her secretary just so she could enjoy Francine’s new situation, and manage her appropriately.

“Sure, sure, Francine. It’s just that I saw a very long handshake with Mr Dreamboat there. He sure seemed to like the look of you.”

Francine blushed deeply. Christ, she never blushed as a man, it was the fucking female hormones again!

“Whatever! It’s because I look like a fucking slut in this getup.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Please, you look absolutely gorgeous. Hot as hell, yes. And I wish I had tits like yours. Seriously, must be nice to have a big ole set of D-cups.”

Francine crossed her arms, trying to hide them. It somehow only emphasised them further, forcing her cleavage up to her collarbone.

“They’re not nice. They’re fucking huge. Why won’t they stop bouncing! I’m wearing a bra, shouldn’t that stop them?”

Clara almost burst out laughing. “Well, if you had little B-cups like I do, a bra with enough compression and padding can keep your ‘girls’ under control. But honey, I don’t think there’s a bra on earth that stop a set of D-cup tittes like yours from bouncing around.”

Francine groaned, and fell back in her chair. This body was ridiculous. If she had to put up with Lumin’s Syndrome until Dr Greene cured her, then why did she become so damn buxom? Even her ass bounced, and it was impossible to walk without swinging her hips!

“This is so damn humiliating,” she grumbled, resting her head in her hands. Her honey blond hair fell over her face, and she used the opportunity to blink and wipe away some stray tears. She’d been crying more often lately, and it was scaring her how weak it was.

“Well,” Clara replied, “humiliation is what Francis enjoyed dealing out, isn’t it? You ran this place into the ground with such low moral and bullying, I’d say this is just desserts.”

Francine looked to her, glaring through clearly leaky eyes.

“I was doing my job. I was being successful. Hell, don’t say you didn’t want me, because I remember you gasping and moaning while I fucked you more than once, Clara. You liked Francis. You thought I was a shark.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re full of it! I wanted you because you wined and dined men, you manipulated me into thinking you were a stubborn-headed but ultimately kind leader. What woman wouldn’t want a successful man who treats her well and helps her out on her fucking internship. I should have seen the red flag of what a major violation of office ethics that was! But as soon as you revealed your true colours, and cheated on me, and spouted your whole philosophy about strong versus weak and sharks versus minnows and all that bullshit, well, I was glad I wasn’t with you. Bullet fucking dodged.”

Francine was aghast. She’d never seen Clara so angry and authoritative. It was as if she was on the receiving end of a boss’ furious lecture, and it felt awful. It made her feminine body tremble, and she subconsciously drew her legs together and primly placed her hands on her thighs, like a good attentive girl.

“I - I was trying to be a good manager. My father -”

“I don’t give two shits about Percy fucking Howard,” Clara said, “and neither should you. The man is human trash who treats other people like money-printing machines. He’s a shitty father, and frankly, you’re better off without him.”

“If I stay a woman I’ll be disinherited! I was just trying to keep my job!”

Clara threw up her hands. “We all are! We’re all trying to keep our jobs! But maybe now that you can’t project fear and bully everyone, you’ll see just how low morale is around here.”

With that, she stepped out, leaving Francine behind. The former male couldn’t help it. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life. The tears welled up, and she cried pathetically and quietly, sobbing as she tried to contain some semblance of powerful manliness within her. She failed.

“I’m not going to be stuck like this,” she whined, “I’m going to b-be a top b-boss again. She’ll see. They’ll all see.”

***

Over the next four days, Francine became a lot more used to the stares and comments. The staff thought she couldn’t hear them, but whispered carried loudly:

“Check out the new boss’ ass, I bet you could bounce a freakin’ quarter off it!”

“Is it just me, or did her tits get even bigger?”

“Maybe she got implants?”

“No way, they’re all natural. Look at that bounced. I bet Hercules himself couldn’t close those top two buttons.”

“I like her a lot more than Francine. She’s like the female version of him in name, but she actually lets us do our jobs.”

“Yeah, too bad she hides in her office so much. Just seeing those hips swing is boosting my morale.”

“Hear hear!”

And so on. Of course, the comments weren’t just restricted to the men. At least one of the office ladies she’d discovered was clearly a lesbian, judging from the comments Francine heard as she walked past. And several of the older ladies didn’t approve of her apparently ‘bimbo-ish’ style, from the red nails and green eyeshadow, all the way to her hint of tantalising cleavage and short pencil skirt. Some comments were even a little catty.

“Well, I’m sure we all know how she got her promotion, and it wasn’t from her degree. Not unless we’re counting the Double-D degrees.”

It made Francine feel small, except in the two places they mentioned. The shrill competitive harpy manning the call station wasn’t wrong, nor were the two men discussing her breast size; they had indeed grown again, and were pressurised inside her standard D-cup bras. Clara had noticed as well, and it made Francine’s former lover quite amused to know that she was ‘still growing.’ Other changes were finalising as well; her hips had gotten just a little wider, and her waist a little more narrow. She swore her hair was just a little bit longer and even more luxurious in texture as well.

But there were other changes. Changes that made Francine increasingly troubled. Throughout each day, it felt as if a low heat was constantly simmering between her thighs. A constant, low-level desire that would occasionally roar - just briefly - when she had to discuss the project progress with Harvey, or check on the web boys, or talk to even Elijah. She couldn’t help but linger her wide blue gaze over their forms, no matter their age or size or type. Just their close proximity and deep, manly voices - at least comparatively - made her breathe a little heavier, which in turn caused her large breasts to strain against her business shirts. It became even worse when her eyes looked down to see a growing hardness barely concealed in their trousers.

Once, to her own horror, she had even licked her lips.

“Fuck!” she cried out when was certain the women’s bathroom was empty. “I’m getting fucking turned on by every damned dude in this fucking office!”

She gritted her teeth, unable to get them out of her mind. Dr Greene had mentioned that Lumin’s Syndrom did shift the mindset and could even alter one’s biological and hormonal needs, but Francis had thought he could keep it under control.

Francine clearly couldn’t. Her nipples were hard, and she kept visualising tall, strong Harvey ripping the buttons from her top and pulling down her bra forcefully, and massaging her nipples directly with his thumbs.

“Mmhhmh . . . that’s, like, so fucking hot,” she moaned to herself, and she moved her hand to start playing with her left tit, groping at its wonderful softness. She opened her eyes. “Fuck, dammit! Harvey is just whiny brat who doesn’t know what it takes to succeed. I am not thinking about letting him fuck me.”

But she couldn’t not, and in the end she traipsed to a toilet cubicle, sat down, and tried to sort herself out the only way she knew she could. Her vaginal passage was already incredibly wet, slick with female juices in preparation for a big, fat di -

She stuck her fingers in before she visualised that image. Instantly, she groaned. She rubbed at her outer lips, rotating her fingers against her clit as she occasionally pressed them deeper into herself.

“Oohh . . . f-f-fuuuuck . . . Mmhhmm!”

It was wonderful. It was ecstasy. The former alpha male whined in a gorgeous, sexy soprano as the feelings intensified, and she quickly undid the buttons of her top with her other hand, before beginning to squeeze and feel at her sensitive left tit. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, and each ministration sent her further over the edge, enhanced by the building bliss within her love tunnel. Her clit sent jolts of pleasure through her body, and with each manipulation her enjoyment grew, until Francine no longer cared about remaining quiet.

“Oohohhh - OOohhh - Oh God Oh God OOOOHHHHHHHH!!!”

Her body seized up, and then fell to shaking at intermittent intervals. Each orgasm was more like an org-spasm: her shoulders twisted, she squeezed her lovely thighs together, trapping her hand. She clutched her breast, groping it hard, and relished the sensation of even her areola adding to her multiple waves of bliss.

“F-fuck, that was good. Holy shit, that was fucking baller.”

The words sounded strange coming from her very female lips in her very soprano voice. She had to take a couple of minutes just to come down from the high before she pulled up her panties and skirt, and fixed up her top, placing her boob back in the snug cup. “Okay, now I can stop thinking about all the hot fucking dudes in the office.”

She stepped out of the cubicle, and nearly ran straight into one of the girls who manned the phones. Stephanie was her name. From the girl’s expression, she had clearly been present for at least some of the moaning.

“Um, are you okay there, Ma’am?” she asked, though her expression revealed she knew exactly what ‘wrong’ actually entailed.

Francine flushed redder than she’d ever been. “Just, um, sorting out some details. Getting a few things in order. I’m going back to work now. Ignore anything you just heard.”

She practically launched past the girl, moving quickly on her heels. But it would not be the last time she felt the need to ‘release the heat’, as she began to think of it. There was no denying that her body was horny as well, and was increasingly responding positively to the men of the office around her. She found herself leaning over them to examine their work, and her pendulous breasts were often right next to their face, distracting their eyes. There was a strange thrill to having them turn their eyes to examine them. They thought they were being subtle, but now that she was a woman, Francine realised women always knew when they were being checked out. And for Francine, that was always. And because it was turning her ridiculous office bimbo body on, she had to keep making trips to the bathroom to pleasure herself, images of dicks thrusting into her wet pussy filling her brain. Even her rich apartment held no escape; she found herself increasingly intrigued by the attractive men on television, even the news anchors! She would lie in bed, her bathrobe now too large for her little body, and moan and grunt in pleasure as she fingered herself.

“I want - ooohh - you inside m-me!” she would cry, imagining one of the men in marketing fucking her hard.

And every time afterwards, Francine would be overcome with shame and self-hatred, and a large dose of rage at both Clara and Lumin’s Syndrome for making her into this - this whore! She was meant to be on the road to being a captain of industry, not some piece of fluff in an office cubicle hungered after by the all the men, and especially not dominated and manipulated by a weak little woman like Clara, who had outmanoeuvred her at every turn. But what she wanted didn’t matter: her body only grew more lovely with each passing day, the final parts of the transformation completing, leaving her as a buxom blonde beauty. She couldn’t even answer her father’s calls now. Instead, she simply emailed him or had Clara pass on messages, but it was clear that she had a limited time to return to normal, or her rat siblings would become Percy’s star children. She just hoped they had no knowledge of her current form.

“Just so long as I don’t end up fucking anybody, I should be fine. Two more days until Greene is finished with his machine, and I’ll be back to normal.”

***

It was the next day when Francine, once more overcome with lust - directed at fucking Elijah of all people! - made a mad dash for the printer room, hoping for some privacy. Unfortunately, the bouncing of her boobs meant she tried to adjust her shirt in mid-dash, causing her not to see Harvey about to exit the room. She ran straight into him, and two more buttons on her blouse popped wide open.

The two yelped, banging into the door and causing it to hit the wall and then rotated around to shut, leaving them to sprawl across the floor of the printer room, Francine beneath Harvey, who had managed to slow her fall somewhat.

“Oh my God!” she squeaked, staring up at his magnificent eyes. She was breathing heavily, and her large boobs were almost spilling out of her tight top. She had come to get away from temptation, but instead she had landed right in it.

“Are you okay, Francine? Ma’am?” Harvey asked.

Despite his concern, he hadn’t moved. Francine could feel why; despite knowing how inappropriate it was, her employee was hard in pants, his stiff penis pressing against her belly.

“I’m - I’m fine. I just, need a moment to . . . to . . .”

That stiffness only grew harder, and she found herself entranced by it. Harvey had his arms around her, having saved her from the nasty fall, but now his strength felt protective. No, more than that. It felt sexy, and it was making her more turned on than she had every been.

“Need to what?” he asked, trying and failing to look her in the eyes while her magnificent cleavage was almost in his face.

“Need to . . . need to . . .”

She wanted to say something, anything, to get away. But the truth was her body had needs that were now far more strong than her own willpower. At that moment, she felt like the office bimbo, and her body was craving to act the part.

“Need to . . ?”

She breathed one last time, squeaking again in realisation at what she was about to do. She could rationalise it. It would just be a little makeout. Maybe a little feel of her tits. Nothing more. But she needed something.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice low and sensual.

She pressed her lips against his, and then they were kissing.

To Be Continued . . .