As Ross dictated his letter to his secretary, his eyes firmly fixed on her chest. He stuttered as the top button on her blouse popped loose. She seemed unaware of it. Though Ross' eyes narrowed, as he restarted speaking.
His mind raced, Kimiko was disappointingly Japanese in her dimensions. Very attractive, very efficient with long slender legs that infiltrated his dreams, but lacking the curves he preferred. Perhaps she was breathing more deeply... or trying out a new bra... But she looked as if she were female.
His gaze remained on her chest, as he talked on. Kimiko's eyes darted from her boss' face quickly returning to her notes, as she fought to keep from blushing too obviously at his leering.
Ross spluttered to a stop, covering it up as a cough, when another button popped on Kimiko's blouse. She couldn't possibly be blind to this. She must have felt it pop. A hint of cleavage, the subtle rise of breasts just visible to him.
He wondered if this was some kind of protest, some form of silent Japanese protest. Was he meant to object? Getting Kimiko to read the shorthand back to him, she was clearly unaware, of the bounce and shift coming from her chest as she read it back to him. Every slight movement visible.
But, as she talked, Ross became convinced of one thing. This was real! Whatever the hell it was, Kimiko was clearly growing. Her bust warm supple flesh, this wasn't some padding, some trick of the light illusion.
A smirk came to him, his brow furrowed in concentration. Kimiko's blouse burst open, every single button bursting free, and falling slack. She was bare breasted, and impossibly firm. Her original dimensions barely meriting support, but now she was clearly well-endowed. Her bust full, firm and topped with gorgeous nips.
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Beyond her hands playing with the blouse, she was acting as if everything was perfectly normal. Fired on by his success, he refocused his attention at the intoxicating alien power he'd discovered.
Beyond a soft gasp, as her bust swelled, Kimiko didn't react. Even as each firm breast became bigger than her head, she was just another secretary.
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- - - - -
It was at that point, that Ross found he wasn't as in control as he imagined. A wave of dizziness made him lean back in his chair, it tilted to his shifting weight. Then he felt as if he were plucked from his own body, floating free. He passed through his oak desk unimpeded. He drifted closer to Kimiko. As his body passed through hers, he felt disoriented. A flurry of confusing sensation pulling back to the real world and out of that imprecise spiritual realm.
The burden of breathing was what made Ross look down. The mountains of flesh piled high on her chest, made her vision swim with vertigo, and the canyon of cleavage between made her pant lightheadedly. This added to her panic, the rippling rolling flesh making her woozy and scared.
She was aware that her boss was still speaking, still dictating, but it felt as if that were a different reality.
- - - - -
"This is your ideal woman." Kelly's voice coming to him as a ghostly, sourceless taunt. She looked around the office for her tormentor... with the come-to-bed voice.
"Come to bed voice..." Kelly repeated inside Kimiko's head. She gasped in horror, her heart racing even faster.
"Perhaps you don't think women should work... or only have jobs that suit." The voice allowed cold dread to fill Kimiko's belly.
"Perhaps you think women should be obscene and not heard." In an instant the office vanished from Kimiko's reality, and she was modelling underwear in a photography studio. Her body perfectly lit, as she posed for the cameraman. She was the centre of attention of an entire team. She wanted to run screaming for cover, as she was told how to smile, how to stand, how to hold her shoulders, her every gesture defined for her by the studio.
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"Or perhaps you prefer to be a trophy. A prized possession, pampered and guarded to be kept safe from decisions and shown like a caged bird."
Kimiko's head snapped around, as the camera clicked rapid-fire capturing her wide-eyes, and slightly vacant confused expression. But the studio vanished, and she felt herself slip into a dimensionless fog.
A moments confusion, and Kimiko realised she was lying down. Her face perfectly made up, her lips glossy and inviting, she posed on the floor like a feline. The cold caress of satin keeping her intensely aware of her supple skin. The slashed side of her lingerie making her feel more than naked. She looked up to see a powerful man, standing commandingly over her... Her husband, she knew.... her master....
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"But I think, you know where a woman's place is." Kelly's voice, a metronome to Kimiko's head-shaking denials.
"Cooking and cleaning."
Kimiko whimpered as she felt reality shift once more.
The glass in the window, showed her as French maid, in the skimpiest, most revealing of outfits. 'Intended for the bedroom', Kimiko thought in dread.
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Kelly's voice purred in delight as she picked up on Kimiko's dread assessment of her clothes.
"Yes... yes, a maid in the living room, and a whore in the bedroom." The word whore, hissed with insane delight.
Kimiko heard her hips crack, widening terrifyingly, while the scene stayed the same.
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Her arse felt as if it belonged on a horse. Trembling hands confirmed that the immensity of her plump rump was entirely real, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh.
"Just like you, I'm not cruel. As in your imagination, your body will be pleasurable. Whichever you choose."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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