GITJ Tangent Thread: Seeking Approval, p12

Sam Packer was riddled with anxieties, walking through the parking lot towards the gleaming glass doors of Evolution Pharmaceuticals, early on this second Monday morning of his assignment. His taxi ride here had been as strange as the rest of his morning, and he was still sort of reeling from just how...well….weird he felt. This cool new project he’d been put on, where he was working on his own for the first time, had somehow changed him; he couldn’t shake that feeling. His boss at the FDA - Director. Arroyo, or, uh...M-M-M-...what should he call her, now, after what happened on the phone yesterday? - would be looking for him to finish soon, and was…nnngh..waiting back at home for him. It made him more than a bit nervous, but it was a darkly thrilling kind of nervous. He found himself wanting do a good job for her, checking out the new OTC product this company had developed, and maybe her approval would lead him to even bigger things than just kudos at work. She wanted this assignment finished up this week, and in the meantime he had to still be on his own, with his rental mid-size car still sitting in the lot back at the Marriott, in which his empty, lonely mini-suite held a microwave he’d forgotten how to use and ties he’d forgotten how to tie. He’d somehow also lost the ability to drive, having taken a cab this morning, and felt strangely less like an adult than he did a young child. So weird; it must be anxiety, though he’d never suffered from it before. It was debilitating, he couldn’t shake it…

…and the way his shoes fit didn’t help.

Approaching the doors, his step instinctively quickened when he noticed another person looking to enter, a woman. Feeling a deep need to please, he jogged up to get the door for her - the tall, curvy redhead he recognized from last week, the testing session in the lab. He held the door open, and bowed his head deferentially.

“Still a gentleman…” she purred. He didn’t have the guts to make eye contact; he felt it might make his heart stop. ‘Bianca Beres, Development’, the ID badge on her impressive chest read. Her eyes passed him up and down and he could have sworn he heard her…growl?

“M-m-my pleasure…” Sam bleated back sheepishly as she stepped past him into the main entrance, in her wake a cloud of perfume that made him shiver. My god she must have almost ten inches on me in those heels, he thought, watching her strong hips sway past in her tight black skirt. He knew he’d been finding himself turned on by tall girls these days, for some reason, but this morning - seeing this person - was something different. He felt dwarfed, obsequious, almost worshipful of this woman, and he didn’t even know her, they’d barely spoken a word. At his height - 5’6”, right? - Sam had never been a tall guy and had gotten used to looking up to lots of women, but today he still couldn’t get past the idea that somehow he was even smaller.

He knew it couldn’t be true, he knew it was ridiculous. People don’t just miraculously shrink. But ever since his feet hit the floor yesterday, Sunday, after his - well - whatever that was on the phone with D-D-Dir-…with M-M-M-…with her, he’d felt too many strange things to ignore it. His shoes didn’t fit. His pants were too long. In the bathroom the counter came up past his waist as he gazed into the mirror at a man who looked, somehow, less than the one he remembered. And, kinda weirder still, anytime he really tried to give it a lot of thought, to figure out what he should do, he found his mind drifting somewhere else.

A text alert from his phone pulled Sam from his reverie, who’d found himself still holding the door open, eyes still on the hourglass backside of the statuesque redhead. She had stopped at the front desk to chat with the receptionist, elbows on the counter, ass just huge and shapely. “Yeah, Nadia, I think I’ll be starting there next week. You?” he overheard her saying to the one with longer hair, “but I’ll be back here for my sessions all the time…”

Stepping into the lobby, Sam looked at his phone.

<<hiiiii ♥️ I won’t be in today but Rina will be there to take care of you>>>

That made him even more nervous. No Ashleigh today?!? How was he supposed to…? How could he…?? There were so many…papers! He’d be…who would organize…who would…? His thoughts were a sudden storm of confusion, a whirlwind of indecision and uncertainty. Ugh!

Head in the game, Packer! he told himself, as he watched the curvaceous redhead step back from the desk, move away, efficiently click-click-clicking on her heels through the well-appointed entry foyer, waving goodbye to the two women behind the desk and disappearing down a side hallway. Maybe that’s  better, Sam thought to himself, If I don’t see Ashleigh today. What did he do with her, Friday night? His memory was still so foggy after all that, uh...beer?

“Hiii Sam…” called one of the receptionists, the striking, short-haired blonde he’d come to know over this past week, pulling Sam’s attention back to the moment. The other was now on a call, though she but her lower lip in keen interest when she saw him entering the building.

“Y-y-yes, hi…g’morning…” he stuttered, stepping himself now deeper into the huge, soaring foyer, up towards the imposing, white security desk. He’d grown friendly with the girls at reception, a quick casual chat part of his routine every morning. But today he could barely get two words together, and he found himself quietly staring at the young blonde’s chest, nicely full in a crisp blouse of lime green, with little white polka dots that-

“How was your weekend?” she asked.

What was her name, again?

“Do anything special?”

“Uhhh….” Why couldn’t he think??

“My eyes are up here, Sam,” she said, with a tolerant smile.

“Oh, uh, yeah…sorry. It was…good,” he finally replied, obviously confused. It was a moment before he could put another sentence together. “What am I doing again?”

“You’re Sam Packer, investigator with the FDA,” the cute blonde said, batting her eyelashes fetchingly, “You’re...investigating. Remember?”

“Y-yeah, right, haha, of course..!” he quipped, slapping his hand a little too forcefully on the desk...which seemed strangely tall to him today, “Just testing you! You passed, of course!”

The blonde receptionist…’K’ name, right? Kristi?...smiled at him, indulgently, cocking her head.

“I’ll just, uh, check that off, in your, um, file...uh..Kristi?”

“Keeley,” the thin, chesty girl corrected, “and this is Nadia…”

The young woman on the phone looked his way again, gave a quick, thin smile, eyed him up and down, from head-to-toe.

“Keeley, right,” Sam managed, trying to recall what he was about to do - it had been in his head, just a moment ago. Oh yeah! “So, uh…”

“...Keeley.”

“...Keeley. What do I have to do to, uh, get checked by one of the doctors here?”

“You want, like, an appointment? In the clinic? For yourself?”

“Well, kinda, yeah…”

“Let me...see what I can do…” she answered, nodding and smiling patiently again.

She must think I’m a whack! Sam thought, face already flushed in the ignominy of the exchange. But maybe if a doctor here could check him out, let him know he wasn’t crazy, that he wasn’t actually losing any, uh...wait, what was he worried about?

“Oh, uh, thanks..!” he replied, taking a step back, awkwardly adjusting the strap of the messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and gazing up and around the room. The atrium was bright, and the natural light made his eyes burn. All this white everywhere! Ugh!

Suddenly self-conscious, especially as a small group of tall, professional-looking women in business attire drifted into the area and cast glances his way, he high-tailed it out of there, buzzed by...Kristi, was it?...down into the hallway where his things were set up. Returning to the conference room and his makeshift desk, his work space, he looked around, noticing for the first time just how powerful the images in the framed inspirational/promotional prints that filled the walls were. Women, “Leaning In” or “Growing Into the Job”...they all looked so strong and smart, confident and competent. He sat down, staring up at one, the one with the woman with the legs, and tried to focus himself, to pick up where he left off on Friday...

Huh. It seemed as if someone had been through his stuff, organizing all the classified papers, the government forms. That was nice of them, he’d thought, as he booted up his laptop and pulled a stack of folders towards himself. Wasn’t there something about some Russian something-or-other he’d wanted to review? Hm and ugh. The thought of it gave him a chill, and he couldn’t quite remember, and plus he didn’t see the file. Anyway, there’s my jacket! He knew he must have left it, last Friday; it was all curled up in the corner. It was a little unusually chilly in here, huh? Even though he had on a nice merino sweater over his button-down he’d started to shiver, so he put the jacket on.

Ah, what’s that? A sticky note, in the pocket. He was always doing that, to remind himself of things. What was this? His handwriting...“Kolectv?” it said, and a few case numb-…

Whoah. Room. Spinning. Sam put his hand on the long desk, for support. What the..???

Something wet, under his nose. He wiped it with his free hand as the world began to collapse around him.

Is that…blood?

Feeling his vision swim, Sam’s eyes turned up into his head as he blacked out.

...

The security cameras caught it, the FDA inspector guy that Ashleigh had harnessed, falling to the ground, limp as a ragdoll.

“Oh crikeys I hope the little bugger didn’t crack his gourd,” Laura said to Dinara, head of security, who was watching remotely as well, in her own office. As part of the IT team, it wasn’t really the Australian with the multicolored hair’s job to keep an eye on Sam, but she couldn’t help but admit she found watching the little bloke’s exploits bloody entertaining. “Better go get him,” she told Dinara. Nobody wanted the guy sent back to Maryland with a concussion or hematoma or whatnot; that might raise some eyebrows…

…

Sam Packer woke, for a moment at least, in some sort of medical ward. On some sort of medical cot. With some sort of medical equipment all hooked up to him - arms, chest, head. IVs, monitors, electrodes. And there were people in the room with him. Someone - oh good! It was Rina! She’d know what happened! - was leaned over him. The light from behind her, coming through her long, dark hair, made her look like some sort of an angel.

“A-am I in the hospital?” he managed.

Her hand came to his forehead, to comfort him. “No, you’re still at Evolution,” she said, with a warm smile, “in the medical clinic.” She brushed hair away from his temple. “Looks like you got that doctor’s visit you wanted.”

“Oh, yeah, uh…” Sam tried to laugh. He was confused, his face felt heavy. “What’s happened?”

“You passed out. They have you sedated, so they can finish up their tests and measurements,” she explained, as the technician down by his feet typed away at a tablet. The big security-guard lady loomed ominously in the corner. “We’ll get you out of here when you’re ready. In the meantime…”

Rina looked to one of the IV bags next to his bed; she twisted a valve.

“...just sleep.”

…

“Is he out again?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Okay. Pull his gown away for me, please?”

...

“I lift him now?” Dinara asked, her deep, rich, feminine basso filling the small ward.

“Sure, yes, he’s all set,” the technician answered. All the electrodes were away, the catheter removed. He remained in the thin patient’s gown they had put him in earlier; let him get back in his own damn clothes himself when he wakes up, the technician figured. “We’ve got everything we need.” The bloodwork, the brainwaves were easy enough. Dr. Zhestakova had had a long list but it all made sense. But the witches had weird requests, strange markers they needed to look for in his - ugh - samples. She felt like she needed to wash her hands again.

“You can get him to my couch?” Rina asked, glancing up at the huge, huge Amazon of a woman. Dinara was a near giantess, a transfer from KOLECTV’s main labs in Russia. In a short-sleeved uniform for a training exercise later today, she was head-to-toe in quasi-militaristic, form-fitting black, and looked like something from a comic book. She had offered to bring Sam, who still slept but should be waking up within the hour, back to Rina’s office.

“Yes yes,” the Russian titan confirmed, thick arms already sliding underneath Sam’s thin body, “I am used to carrying men his size...” Easily, she hoisted him off the gurney. “...some bigger. And many much, much smaller.”

Rina’s heart caught in her throat, watching the big woman holding Sam, a grown man. He looked like a child in her arms, head lolled back over her bulging bicep. A huge smile grew on Dinara’s handsomely chiseled face, as she tested his weight in her embrace. She bounced him, casually, up and down. “Haha little man is very light,” she laughed, looking down at his unconscious face, “weigh nothing to me.” At that, she laughed again, and in a sudden, smooth movement, bounced him once more in her arms so that her hands came to rest under his shoulders and butt, allowing her to hoist him, effortlessly, over her head. “Haha like nothing, see!?” she gloated, holding him over herself as if he was a sack of potatoes.

Good god this girl is strong, Rina marveled, watching as, with good humor and as if for the entertainment of the other women in the room, Dinara began to pump him up and down, up and down.

“I use him for weight, yes?” she chuckled, “Make myself stronger?” A man, being casually used like a piece of exercise equipment...and not a heavy one, at that. By a woman who looked like she could tuck him under her arm and carry him like a purse, he was being made to look so meager, so tiny. “You like that, little man?” Dinara asked the motionless, sleeping FDA inspector with a wry smile, “You like helping big woman, big Dinara get even bigger??”

And they were breeding armies of girls like this? Rina marveled, Deep in Siberia or wherever? She was proud of her company, proud of what her gender was somehow accomplishing, and excited to see what the world would be like a year from now. Ten years from now. Seeing Dinara and Sam together like this, it all seemed a reality. The thought was exhilarating.

The big blonde giant continued to laugh, now curling Sam’s limp little frame like a barbell, ersatz arm exercises. Somehow, he was still asleep, though Rina would admittedly love to see the expression on his face if he were not, if he were conscious enough to realize that he was being toyed with, used like an object, an accessory. Dehumanized, reduced.

God, it was hot.

“Can we, uh, get him to my office?” Rina asked, feeling the growing impatience in her voice and warmth between her thighs.

“Your turn to want to play him now, hm?” the Russian superwoman jested with a crooked smile, “Treat him like..like..?” At that, Dinara mashed Sam’s little head into her big right breast, cooing indulgently with her deep profundo as the mass of her tit near eclipsed his face. She looked to be either smothering the poor thing or nursing him like an infant, albeit roughly. The technician looked on, soberly, as if she’d seen this all before. “You milk him?”

“That’s the, uh, haha...” Rina began, thinking to herself how she once used her maternal power over men - her old boss, whose sniveling little face she could still picture, being one of them - merely as a tool, an instrument to get what she wanted. But these days, since the onset of the Pathogen, it had become much more than that to her.  Infantilizing men, like she was watching Dinara do here in her own way, seemed more like a divine purpose, a driving need, and all part of the-

The technician turned off her tablet.

“...plan,” Rina finished.

“Come, we go,” Dinara spoke, nodding towards the door and tossing Sam over her shoulder, “He to wake up hungry, yes..?”

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written on commission