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Cash Cow

Mc, ff, fd, gr, lac

#FemaleHucowTransformation
#FemaleCowTransformation
#Hucow

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There was something satisfying about closing a sale. Certainly, a commission was nice. But closing a sale brought satisfaction that could warm a soul. Especially if you’re a door to door sales representative.

It takes a lack of certain ethical fiber to intrude upon the sanctity of another person's home with your merchandise, be it material or spiritual. That, and possibly an ideological certitude that your wares are important enough to be forced upon another. Whatever the motive, closing a sale always left a good taste in your mouth.

Girl scouts have it easy. Their wares are well advertised. Plus, folks love girl scouts and everyone loves their cookies. Girl scouts never get a door slammed in their face.

On a good day, Anna was lucky not to have more than ten shut before a single word escaped her lips. It didn’t get her down, though. But it can wear on the most stalwart salesperson.

Not Anna. Even on days when she didn’t make a sale (known as rolling a donut) Anna wasn’t the slightest bit put off. That’s because Anna had the two qualities that make a great salesperson: #1 . A great product that she believed in. A product that she knew would make the world a better place just by sharing it. Even if it was just by one home at a time. #2 . She lacked the ethical fiber that keeps most people from knocking on stranger’s doors.

It didn’t hurt that Anna also had enough business experience to sell a snow-cone to an Eskimo… then make him a customer for life. Anna was exceptional at what she did, and she enjoyed doing it.

It felt good to be back in the lower echelons of business. It was glorious from the top, but it was curiously fun to replay the game and find a new way to get to the summit.

The former owner of Taurus Enterprise had learned a few things at the last conference she had attended. And she intended to put them to good use. Over the course of just two weeks she had amassed a good number of sales. No small accomplishment considering it was her first territory with a new product. She made about four sales a day, well beyond what she was able to accomplish in her “rookie” years.

Not being in want of money certainly was helping.

Indifference. That was the hardest part of the sale to master. The hardest thing for a person to overcome. It’s hard to be indifferent when your livelihood depends on pushing a product. A potential sale can smell how much you want it - and some might lead you on just long enough to make you think your going to close the deal. Then they slam the door, with a satisfactory retribution knowing that they’ve wasted as much of your time as you had of theirs.

Anna didn’t need a sale every day. It was nice, but she didn’t need it. Besides she’d already made a sale today. At least she had to believe she did, so the sale would believe she did. It was hard to find a neighborhood that wasn’t trying to “keep up with the Joneses”. Envy was be a beautiful ally.

Surprisingly, as rude as the act was, going door to door was often successful simply because a product going door to door held within it a fear of loss and sense of urgency. A salesperson was like an ice cream truck: it might not be back again any time soon, and it won’t be her for long. Sso you’d better go buy your ice cream now.

Hmm, there was a thought… maybe Anna could get the same conditioned response as an ice cream truck by playing a little jingle? She’d have to pass that one back to corporate. Then send it to R&D to find a catchy jingle to fit the product. Honestly, Anna wouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Bos already was looking into it.

She made a mental note; b flat maybe? Then continued her route. She was losing daylight, and there was one house left at the end of the cul-de-sac that she needed to return to.

It was a large two story brick house with false colonnades in front. A new neighborhood in a new suburb. The whole place screamed money. And yet they didn’t have the lawyers (or sense) to put up a “no soliciting” sign.

There was a new Land Rover in the driveway. This told Anna that her sale was home. It also told her that she would have no qualms, or difficulty, with taking this sale’s money.

Anna went up to the door and politely knocked “Somewhere over the rainbow”. “Shave and a haircut” never got sales, and Anna had a hunch that using “Mario Bros.” wouldn’t work on this sale.

She stood to the side of the door, not quite leaning against one of the fake columns. Keeping an eye on the doorway, but not quite staring at it. The door opened, “Hello, I’m Annabelle Taurus. I’m here on behalf of Dr. Bos Body Works and the newest line of Bovidae Products. We’re now offering Bos Replenishing Allure at discount, but I was told you might be interested in our premier product: Bos Intensity Gel.”

The door opened wider and a middle aged blond stepped out of the doorway. “Who told you I would be interested in anything?”

“Actually, I came by here earlier in the day and your daughter, Kristen, expressed that you might find these products as much to your liking as she did. So I’m here at her bequest.”

“Step-daughter…” the blond corrected, “What did she buy off of you?”

“She bought a lower end product. She didn’t have the same kind of money as your neighbors.”

“What?”

“Let’s see, the Pecora’s and the Caprina’s, just in eyesight. They ordered several hundred dollars worth a piece.” Anna said pointing down the street. It always paid to memorize names. “Come to think of it, they mentioned that Jennifer Argali would be interested in our product. When would be a good time to show you what we have to offer?”

“Er… I’m not…well, I guess now is as good a time as any. Come on it.” Jennifer submitted. Never ask ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions until they couldn’t bear to say ‘no’. Give them an option between two choices of your choosing and you’ll always come out on top.

Anna followed Jennifer into the home. Luxuries of no real value were found throughout the house. Expensive items for sake of spending lots of money. No sentimental value, no craftsmanship, no love. But just enough flair to embarrass yourself by presenting them at Antiques Road Show.

Jennifer sat down on an overly plush chair and motioned for Anna to do the same. Anna did so crossing her legs politely. She was sharply dressed in a long professional skirt. Enough to be noticed and still be taken seriously. She set down the bag bearing the purple, black and white logo of Dr. Bos Body Works on the glass coffee table.

“How familiar are you with Dr. Bos products?” Asked Anna as she looked through her bag for a few items of demonstration. The pleasant fragrance of lavender began to fill the room.

“I’ve heard the name.”

“Originally Dr. Bos was a supplier of some of the magic elixirs that cosmetic companies desired. Our ingredients have grown increasingly popular amongst major cosmetics, so an individual brand was the next logical step for growth. And it works in keeping our products truly organic. Straight from harvest through production we want our products to be as natural as possible. What better way to remove all foreign contaminants than have all products made entirely in house? We also ensure all of our products don’t smell like pharmaceuticals. How can you feel beautiful smelling like plastic?”

Jennifer instinctively took a breath and became aware of the floral scent in the air. “Oh my! That is nice? What is that?”

“Lavender. Something of a personal touch by Dr. Bos herself.”

“Dr. Bos is a woman?”

Anna bit her tongue. Amazing how chauvinist views still affect the modern home. “Of course! Helping women look good takes a women’s touch. Sure we love to look beautiful to catch a man’s eye. But it’s other women who we seek to truly impress. Dr. Bos is well aware of that and strives to draw envy toward users of her product.”

“You have my attention. What have you got?”

“For you, Jennifer, Bos Intensity Gel seems like a good place to start. I can see why your dau… step-daughter and neighbors might have suggested it for you. It would suit you well.” Anne smiled as she brought out a small tin of gel. She felt herself getting excited at the prospect of this new client. The world would be much better with Jennifer using Dr. Bos product. At least the neighborhood, anyway.

This was Anna’s favorite part. She knew the sale was closed by the time she was invited into the home - but… that moment of anticipation before showing the product! What would the reaction be? What product would they choose in the end? The very idea thrilled Anna almost more than the act of using it. The anticipation, it was like foreplay to her. And foreplay always got her off.

Anna unscrewed the lid from the small container. “My that’s an awfully small sample.” said Jennifer, looking somewhat disappointed.

“It’s not a sample. Bos Intensity Gel is over $700 an ounce.” answer Anna. She knew a high price alone was enough to snare this sale. “Though some would argue the fact; quality always trumps quantity. Which isn’t to say quantity can’t be a good thing…”

As the lid came undone Jennifer couldn’t help but take a deep breath. “That smells lovely. Doesn’t it, Jennifer?”

“Oh my, yes it does. You could market it in aroma candles and make a fortune!”

Anna made a mental note at that idea. Always good to accept a customer’s suggestions. If one was offered, there were a thousand more sales who shared the idea. Of course long term exposure to such a product… They’d have to be small candles…

Jennifer visibly relaxed into the plush chair. Anna smiled. She could have her way with the woman if she’d wanted. She did want to. Just not yet.

“That’s a great idea, Jennifer. I’ll make sure our Research and Development team gets moving on that idea, if they’re not already. It would be great to smell this good all the time, wouldn’t it Jennifer?”

Jennifer took another deep breath and sighed almost closing her eyes, “Yeah.”

Too easy, Anna thought. Almost disappointing, really. Anna loved the struggle of a strong will. She wasn’t expecting a woman with such small breasts to be so… submissive. It made sense though. Jennifer was showing off what little she had in a tight v-neck. Submissive women like showing off their breasts. Anna smiled at the thought. It wouldn’t be long before Jennifer was on her knees.

A shame really. Anna enjoyed the longer breaking of Jennifer’s type: rich, arrogant, and naturally good looking. Anna looked upon Jennifer’s lithe form again and noticed that she was a natural blond. Perhaps that counteracted the small breasts in terms of submissiveness?

Perhaps a change in strategy, just for the fun of it. “Would you like to smell like lavender, Jennifer?”

Jennifer opened her eyes. “What? You mean like a perfume?”

It was a bold risk. But that’s what Anna thrived on. “No, not a perfume. I mean would you like to smell like this always?” Anna held the jar of closer to Jennifer.

Jennifer couldn’t help but inhale deeply. The scent filled her head, no, her whole body with… she couldn’t find the word for it. She took another breath pushing her nose closer to the jar of Bos Intensity Gel. She wanted it. She needed it. “Yes! I could smell that forever.”

Anna smiled. The miscommunication was irrelevant. If Jennifer wanted to smell herself forever, she could. The customer was always right.

Anna began screwing the lid back on. Jennifer’s eyes widened and was about to ask why Anna was shutting off the pleasant aroma when Anna answered, “I believe that there is another, more expensive, product more suited to your desires, Jennifer.”

The idea of something more expensive was enough to persuade Jennifer, whether it suited her needs or no. She didn’t ask a price. She didn’t even respond verbally, she just got up to get her purse. She whipped out a credit card and threw it on the table. Then Jennifer sat back down into the plush chair.

Ah, technology. In Anna’s early years few people had cards, let alone would attempt to use them for a door to door purchase. Then, after the nineties, everyone had cards - but wireless technology was in it’s infancy and it took tens of minutes worth of time filling out forms to charge one from home. And even then it would be at a later date. Now, an account could be charged remotely with a small handheld device.

Anna smiled. She could empty the entire account. There wasn’t a need to though. She wasn’t in need of money. Besides, honest business always paid off. Well, mostly honest business… “Let’s just leave that for later, shall we? Until you’re 100% satisfied in our product”

Anna left the Bos Intensity Gel and Jennifer’s credit card on the table as she drew a larger purple tinted container from her bag. “This is Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder. It will rejuvenate your skin, moisturize it, and give your body the scent of lavender.”

Anna unscrewed the jar letting its aroma fill the room, then pulled a pair of latex gloves from her bag and donned them. She scooped up a small bit with her fingers holding it before Jennifer.

Jennifer took a deep breath then was caught off guard with a cool sensation on her chest as Anna began rubbing it in just above her v-neck. “Not to mention it is made with the latest Bovidae Formula.” Anna said as she rubbed the cream into Jennifer’s chest.

Jennifer’s eyes popped open at the touch of the cold cream as it was spread onto her… She didn’t do anything to stop Anna. It felt too good. But the flavor of the aroma was different somehow. More… musky? Jennifer inhaled deeply again. Yeah, musky. It smelled like lavender and sex.

“Are you a submissive woman, Jennifer?” Asked Anna as she scooped up more of the cream. Anna moved in almost straddling the other woman as she rubbed more cream into Jennifer’s chest and above, exposing more of her shoulders…

Jennifer’s eyes opened and went up and to the right as she pondered the question. She wasn’t submissive. Especially not considering the way she treated her husband or step-daughter. “No, I’m not a submissive woman.”

Anna arched an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard. “Really? I’m sitting over you. I could do with you as I would will.” She said with an air of confidence.

Jennifer closed her eyes. “I paid you to.” she retorted as she settled further into the chair.

She had a point, really. In her world, Anna was little more than a service provider. What a curious mind. Perhaps she’d paid for service before… “What are you paying me to do?”

“I’m paying you to make me more beautiful.”

Again, she had a point. “Your money is well spent. Your skin is rejuvenating and re-hydrating. All your wrinkles, what few you had, are disappearing. Your breasts will soon start firming up. You’ll hardly recognize yourself in short time.”

“Good!” Jennifer smiled and opened her body to Anna.

Anna wasn’t sure how she felt about this. It was as if Jennifer expected her to rub the entire jar of Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder onto her body to her benefit. Sure, Anna had planned on doing just so. But, that was because it was her idea. Not this egomaniac’s. Best to swallow her pride and run with it. At least for a little bit.

“Is there anything else in particular I could help you with?” Anna inquired as she rubbed the last of the cream onto Jennifer. This time moving lower over what was exposed of Jennifer’s breasts.

Jennifer laughed. “I remember the day when I had to go abroad for that kind of service! What are you offering?”

Anna bit her lip and pulled back from on top of Jennifer. Despite the chemicals running through her body, despite her submissive response to Anna’s actions, Jennifer still thought she was in charge. And now she thought that Anna was a prostitute. She had misread Anna’s seduction… Anna cringed at the thought. Even more so when she acknowledged that seduction it was…

With a twinge Anna snapped out of it. She wasn’t the whore here. Anna had read all the signs - and by now Jennifer had taken a more than healthy dose of narcotics. Anna was the alpha here, even if Jennifer didn’t know it, yet. She would turn Jennifer into a cash cow. Even if it meant doing so at Jennifer’s request.

Maintaining her professionalism, Anna stepped back and laid out the rest of her wares onto the table. She named each product as she did so. Anna could take her time. The chemicals would do their job, even if Jennifer was proving more resistant than most to their cognitive effects.

“I have with me: Bos Replenishing Allure, Hypnotherapy Omega Red Sensory Elixir, Replenishing Anti-Wrinkle Serum, Shock Perfume Intensity Cellular Extract, Bos Oxygen Natural Dermafil, Bos Open Intensity Night Gel, Simple Elixir Xanthippe. You’ve already seen the Bos Intensity Gel. And here is the original Bovidae Formula.”

Anna neglected to pull out the remaining item in the bag. Given the circumstances, she didn’t want Jennifer to know about the feeldoe. Not yet, anyway. It wasn’t something Anna normally carried on her. It was special purchase for a special client, and Anna made sure that the customer always got what they paid for.

“Mmmm, let’s go back to the Intensity Gel. I didn’t get to feel it yet.” Said Jennifer.

“Excellent choice. It compliment’s the effects of Bos Age-Defying Cream of Wonder. And it will feel very good!” Anna reopened the container “If you want I could…”

“Yes! I think you should!” responded Jennifer, pulling off her v-neck and turning in the chair to better expose her back and shoulders to Anna.

Anna smiled. The subtlety of persuasion was unnecessary, aside from comforting Anna’s ego that she was indeed in control. Certainly the chemicals where helping subdue Jennifer’s inhibitions about removing her shirt. She admired Jennifer’s newly exposed flesh. It was already healthy and smooth. Toned in just the right places. “Actually, Jennifer, Bos Intensity Gel isn’t meant for your backside.”

A tipsy smile crept its way across Jennifer’s face. “Then I guess this will just get in the way!” She giggled as she removed her bra and tossed it away. She cupped her pert breasts and swayed her body invitingly in front of Anna. Then she relaxed again into the plush chair, now half nude.

Anna’s smile was genuine. In a past life she would have offered Jennifer a managerial post. Especially given her clairvoyance in recognizing her bra would get in the way, no less! Too bad for Jennifer. Since the chemicals were kicking in Anna would now only offer her a post in the manger.

Moving again closer to Jennifer, Anna dipped her gloved fingers into the gel. Anna held her fingers in front of Jennifer’s nose before rubbing it into the other, not yet submissive, woman.

Jennifer couldn’t control herself as she leaned in to smell the scent she had so adored. A strong odor of lavender, and something different now. Not just musk. There was liquid sex mixed into the floral scent. She breathed deep and rubbed a nipple.

What sweet sight greeted Anna’s eyes. As jaded as she was, she still got a thrill as the wet spot crept from Jennifer’s crotch. Anna couldn’t help but take a whiff of the new scent of lavender and sex that filled the air… Only lost for a moment, she snapped out of the daze and continued her task.

Jennifer cooed and pulled her own hand back as Anna massaged the cool gel into her breasts. She could feel her nipples swell. She arched her back so as to press her flesh deeper into Anna’s hands. But Anna’s hands weren’t there long. “Oh!” She moaned as Anna smeared more of the gel onto her abdomen. “OOH!” she cried louder as Anna rubbed concentric circles around erogenous spots she didn’t even know she had. It was like her nipples were being tweaked from her stomach.

If her belly felt that good, her actual nipples must be shooting lightning bolts. Jennifer cupped her breasts and squeezed unfamiliar flesh. Her nips weren’t found where they normally where. They seemed just a little bit farther out on her tits. Mmm, tits was a great word for what she had. Funny, Jennifer couldn’t remember ever having tits before - she’d only had breasts. Tits were better, bigger, fuller.

Sure enough, as soon as she found her nips, they felt like lightning. Jennifer squirmed at her own touch then gasped as Anna rubbed more cream into the two new sweet spots. Her whole body was tingling. So much so she didn’t realized Anna had stopped touching her.

Anna was out of Bos Intensity Gel. Mixed with the Cream of Wonder, Jennifer should be feeling swimmingly good without any assistance for a number of hours. Anna watched as Jennifer tweaked her now large tits, wriggling and moaning in ecstasy. She wondered how long it would take Jennifer to notice her developing second set. Anna certainly hadn’t been shy about exciting the new teats - and Jennifer certainly had responded well to the touch.

It was odd though. Jennifer hadn’t actually touched herself below her normal set of breasts. Anna had no doubt it would be a while before Jennifer noticed her new milkers. Especially given the diluted concentration of the Bovidae Formula in products for home use. But Jennifer hadn’t taken her hands from her own original nipples.

Sure, Dr. Bos products heighten the sensitivity of the body. But most women would begin rubbing their nether regions in tandem with their breasts to get off. Judging by the growing dampness between her legs, it was likely Jennifer needed nothing more than nipple stimulation to reach orgasm.

As if to prove the point Jennifer let one go. “Oh, oh, oooooooooh! Oh god! Yes! Yes! Yes!” she screamed, pinching her tits all the tighter.

What a lucky one this one is, thought Anna. Four new orgasmic buttons for her, and anyone else’s, pleasure.

After a few moments recovery, Jennifer reached a hand down check her own crotch. She rubbed her own wetness then brought her hand back to her face to smell. Heaven. Pure orgasmic bliss. Jennifer had always liked her own smell. But this new one really turned her on. She began rubbing her tits again, though they seemed an even further to reach.

“How long are you going to keep your pants on?” questioned Anna.

“Until I say you can take them off!” replied Jennifer smugly. She didn’t even open her eyes. She didn’t seem embarrassed that she’d gotten off in front of another woman - despite seemingly to have forgotten about Anna. Did she get off on exhibitionism, too?

Anna was amazed at Jennifer’s arrogance, but maintained her cool. “Okay then. When would you like me to take off your pants?”

“You’re anxious to get in there, aren’t you?” giggled Jennifer.

Physically, the chemicals were working fine. Mentally they seemed to be working as well, if more slowly. Giggling wasn’t something dominant woman were known for. Jennifer wasn’t a dominant woman. She was just bossy. Good thing Anna was sent here. She knew just what to do with bossies.

“Actually, Jenny, I’ve got something that needs to go there. Something that was bought just for a submissive woman like you.”

“I told you I’m not a submissive woman!” Jennifer retorted while twirling her nipples.

“Really, Jenny? Then why are you showing me your tits. Does that get you off?”

“Yes!”

“You are submissive, Jenny. Submissive women like showing off their tits. Showing off your tits gets you off doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but…”

Anna cut her off. “You don’t wear bras either, Jenny. Submissive women don’t wear bras. They like showing off their tits. You couldn’t wear a bra if you tried.”

Jennifer thought she wore bras. Ones that emphasized what she had - at least when she didn’t have that much to emphasize. She looked down. What more needed emphasizing? But wouldn’t she need something to support these things? She thought, holding them up with her hands.

“Admit it, Jenny, you’re a submissive woman. You’re even making milk like a submissive woman.” Anna reached out and grabbed one of Jennifer’s original teats. She pulled in just the right way and a quick stream of milk shot out.

“Oooh!” Jenny squealed. God that felt good!

“You liked that. Didn’t you, Jenny? Submissive woman like making milk, don’t they?”

“Oh, yes. Oh, oh yes!” Let out Jenny as Anna pulled a few more squirts.

“Take off your pants. That’s right, take them off. I knew it! I knew you were a submissive woman! You weren’t wearing any panties, were you? That’s right submissive women don’t wear panties, do they?” Anna rewarded Jenny with a few more expert tugs on Jenny’s now well developed tit.

“Oh god! More! More!” pleaded Jenny once Anna stopped.

“Get on your knees.” Jenny immediately dropped to the floor. “That feels good doesn’t it, Jenny? Submissive women like being on their knees, don’t they? You like being in that submissive state don’t you?”

Anna didn’t wait for the affirmation. She just pulled the same teat again until Jenny was on all fours above a milk stained carpet. Good thing it was already white. Anna gave a few more quick tugs for the good behaviour.

“Ooooooooh!” Jennifer screamed. She had meant to say ‘Oh god!’ that time but lost her words as her pussy felt that familiar clenching which signaled the start of her orgasm.

Anna took a step back to oversee her work. “Look at you. You are a cow, aren’t you Jenny?”

“Aaaaaaaaaam noooooooooot aaaaaaaaaaa coooooooooooooooow!” said Jenny, still cumming.

“Really, Jenny? Submissive women are cows. There you are - on the ground, on all fours. Like a cow. Your tits are hanging out, dripping milk. Like a cow. You even have four tits. Just like a cow. Because, Jenny, you are a cow.” Anna milked the two new teats for emphasis.

That sent Jenny over the top. She came hard, and then came again as Anna continued milking her.

Multiple orgasms without even touching her twat. What a lucky one Jenny was with her new teats. Anna could keep going her cumming all night without putting a finger inside of her. At least so long as she had the stamina to keep milking her new cow.

Anna did have to stop. She still had one task left before fulfilling her contract. Besides, her hands were getting tired.

Letting go of Jenny’s tits, Anna pulled the feeldoe out of her bag. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Especially given the lack of attention you’ve had so far down here.” Anna said as she slid the pony side into Jenny’s pussy.

Given the moaning, it was clear Jenny did enjoy her new pseudo cock.

Anna took a step back to view the newest herd member. “If it weren’t for your udders, some might think you were a bull instead of a bossy. But you’ve been bossy all your life haven’t you? Maybe that’s why your neighbors expressed interest in you getting our products? Maybe that’s why your step-daughter was so eager to buy this for you?” Anna surmised tapping the feeldoe.

Jenny moaned in pleasure again, but her moans weren’t entirely to moos, yet. Anna wasn’t going to miss this chance to really milk her new cash cow. She looked at the uncharged credit-card on the coffee table then looked into Jenny’s eyes. “Kristen will be back soon. Would you like to buy her something in return?”

Hijinks with Hilareola. After meeting a busty clown, two women start to feel funny.

#FemaleVariantTransformation

#divergentmutants other various tf various transformation

Heather and Roxy decided that for the weekend, they were going to leave the city and drive out to the nearby county fair. They hoped for fun rides, good food (that was bad for them), and entertainment. Though, in truth, they were prepared to just be unimpressed and just get joy out of laughing at all the Podunk locals too stupid or poor to live in the city.

Heather was the taller of the two women, just under six feet tall, in no small part in thanks to her legs. They were long and sinewy, and led up to her firm and high butt, all wrapped in form fitting yoga pants. The shapes of her flat tummy and her handfuls of breasts were only slightly more hidden beneath her black tank top. Auburn hair pulled up into a pony tail, and thin lips pulled into a smirk. She had the looks and confidence of a prom queen in high school, but it was Roxy who exuded the dominance between the two.

Roxy rose to only 5'7'', but what she lacked in height she made for in curves. Breasts and bum couldn't be hidden unless under a large winter coat. Too hot for that option, she opted for a military-style jacket, all dark green with a few patches about lesbian pride, and baggy cargo pants. The subtle supply of baby fat around her belly was completely hidden thanks to a baggy and old t-shirt. Freckles dusted across her darker-than-Heather's complexion, and piercings ran along the ridge of her right ear, and studded into her left nostril.

The women walked through the fair grounds, Heather enjoying the looks she got, and Roxy huffing at her lack of catcalls received. "You'd get more hits if you dressed like a woman, Roxy," Heather said upon seeing her plump, pierced, lip push out in a pout. "You know? Show off the goods!"

Roxy scoffed, running a ringed hand through her short mess of blonde and green hair. "Why bother? I already landed the best catch." She complimented Heather, punctuating the statement by giving her ass a firm and very audible slap, and letting her hand linger there to squeeze the firm globe. After giving a yelp and sharing a laugh, the women stopped in front of a poster that read, "Come See Hilareola the Clown!"

The poster showed off the advertised entertainer. Tall stilettos, blue and sparkly. Striped stockings that encased her legs from her toes up to her thick thighs; the flesh past the stockings' end bulged slightly from the pressure. From her crotch, to her pinched in stomach, to her full and unyielding breasts, she was wrapped in something that looked more similar to a corset than a leotard. A frilly and unnecessary skirt wrapped around her wide hips. It hid nothing a skirt usually would. Puffy sleeves, contrary to the rest of her form fitting outfit, ended at a pair of red gloves. A tiny top hat sat crooked on a mess of wild blue hair. Any skin showing was clean ivory, making the obnoxious makeup on her face, particularly her blue eye shadow and red, thick lips, stand out all the more.

Both agreeing they had to see how this porn star clown performed, Heather and Roxy entered the large tent and found their seats. Much to their dismay, Hilareola gave a rather tame show, though made more lewd by her tit flesh rising up out of her low top, and the leotard riding up against her plump ass. She performed alone, and despite the dull nature of her act, the audience loved it. Heather and Roxy rolled their eyes, amused the yokels were so easily amused. Not to say they weren't moved by the performance. Watching the curvy woman bounce all around the ring made the women flushed, and handsy with each other.

Half way through the act, they both slipped back out of the tent, and walked with a brisk pace toward the car.

Heather stopped Roxy, and motioned to the tent nearby, saying she couldn't wait to get home to have her.

Roxy didn't like doing things like this in public, she was mostly private, only being bold when it made Heather happy. Unable to deny her own strong arousal, however, she agreed and the women slipped into the tent after checking that it was empty. Wasting no time, Roxy pushed Heather to the small bed in the room, and fell to her knees between Heather's legs.

Heather pushed Roxy back some. She crossed her ankles, lifted up her toned legs, and peeled her yoga pants and blue panties up past her bum, exposing her dripping sex.

Roxy buried her smiling mug right into Heather's crotch, feasting feverishly on the overflow of juices. Sometime later, both women ended up on the bed. Roxy had her leg rubbing up between Heather's thighs, with one long, bare, leg draped across her hip. Her fingers danced inside of Heather, while her lips and teeth enjoyed the flesh at Heather's shoulder. Heather mostly moaned, but did busy her hand with massaging Roxy's heavy tit.

Lost in their passion, they didn't notice Hilareola walk into the tent. She casually entered, brushing confetti off of her cleavage and sucking some pie cream off her ungloved fingers. Large eyes shot open and smile widened upon seeing the sex act that awaited her in her tent.

Eventually Heather's eyes opened and spotted Hilareola in the tent. She was just sitting there, watching them. Legs spread, torso leaning forward, exposing the deep valley of her tits, one hand holding a box of popcorn, and the other shoveling it into her mouth comically. Heather screamed, and Roxy yelled, both of them scrambling to cover themselves. Hilareola pouted, sad to see the show end so soon. She cheered for an encore, but when the girls started to redress, she knew it was a lost cause.

As soon as they were decent enough to walk outside, they started to head toward the tent flap. The clown woman stopped them, and offered them a gift before they left. Intrigued, and too frazzled to think of how to say no, they stood there, waiting for the prize. Popcorn was brushed off her white globes, leaving behind residue of salt and butter (that she would enjoy later), and then a hand plunged between her breasts.

The girls watched as Hilareola fumbled around with her cleavage. She pulled out horns and toys, and finally, a lipstick case.

Hilareola applied the lipstick hastily and messily, yet somehow it came out looking clean and shiny. She started to approach the women, but when they backed up slightly, her shoulders dropped and her lip pouted.

The women turned to leave, having no interest in making out with a clown. One step from the door, they heard a honk. Instinctively they turned to look back at Hilareola.

The clown was caught groping her own tit, gave a faux shocked expression, and then smiled. Before they could escape, she pressed the fingertips from both hands to her lips, giving them a wet, audible kiss, and then blew them at the girls. Unbeknownst to them, both of their cheeks had been marked with lipstick, in the shape of the clown's smiling lips.

After they left, Hilareola noticed the pair of damp panties on her bed. She sniffed them gently, looked around, and then snorted them hard up against her red ball nose. After letting out a sigh of enjoyment, she stuffed the underwear into the bottomless pit that was her cleavage.

By the time they arrived home, the marks on their cheeks had faded into their skin, and entered their system.

They had been caught in the act before, and they always had some intense fucking when they got home, but not this time. The clown put a damper on the whole experience. So they just went to bed, and hoped it'd all be over.

When they awoke, they slid out of bed and set to getting ready for the day. At breakfast, Roxy mentioned to Heather that she was looking a little pale, asking if she felt alright. Heather replied with, "I guess I am feeling a little funny," followed by a momentary chuckle. Roxy rolled her eyes and continued to shove more bacon and eggs into her mouth, though she couldn't seem to stop the rumble in her stomach. The food just wasn't as appetizing as it usually was, nor did it fill her up. A sprinkling of sugar on everything did help it all go down, at least.

Throughout the week, the girls felt stranger and stranger, but never in any discomfort or pain. In fact, in most instances, it felt good. Heather had continued to grow more and more pale. One day she attempted to apply some blush and concealer, but found herself hating how she looked, and washed it off. She just settled for the normal application of lipstick, eye shadow and liner. It was an odd change of pace for the typically vain yoga nut. She used to spend hours in the bathroom, making sure her makeup was perfect, and her skin looked flawless and unblemished. Now she was finding herself hastily applying makeup, giggling at how easy it was to get everything right where she wanted it to be. She would later buy a comically large face pad, so she could bap herself in the face with a cloud of white powder. Not that her skin needed any more white.

Her girlfriend, Roxy, continued to struggle with a stomach ache for another day. She had figured it was her change in diet, because all she could stomach were sugary snacks and fried dough. One day, she found she had lost all the baby fat around her midsection. In fact, it was starting to look a little flat, like Heather's body. It was like all that stomach pain was just her body moving things around and kicking things out, renovating her body. Where Roxy lost fat, Heather gained some. Her humble breasts and firm tush grew considerably. None of her bras fit anymore, and her panties were just getting absorbed by her plump cheeks.

While her breasts were already large, Roxy disliked bras so much in her life that she never wore them, which resulted in them having more sag than was appropriate for a woman in her 20s. Overnight, however, they lifted up and stayed perky on her chest. Proud of how much better they looked, the normally conservatively dressed lesbian started to show off a bit more skin. Her ever whitening skin made her breasts look even creamier and desirable.

Heather's wardrobe no longer fit her newly curvaceous frame. Everything rode up high and regular t-shirts became belly shirts, shorts became almost thongs, and yoga pants ripped every time she bent over, revealing her white and red polka dot bloomers. At the store, Heather disliked everything she usually went for. Now she was picking out far more revealing clothes, that were brightly colored.

With her clothes still able to fit her, Roxy was able to go to her friend's kid's birthday party. She found herself unable to pay attention to the adults, and kept watching the party. One child came up to her and asked if she was a clown, given her makeup. Roxy immediately agreed. The kid asked if she could do balloon animals. Roxy immediately agreed. From a pocket that was previously empty, Roxy was able to pull out balloon after balloon. The moment she put the end of the balloon in her mouth, she moaned quietly to herself.

Behind closed, plump, green lips, Roxy treated the open end of the balloon like a lover's nipple. Swirling her tongue against it, nibbling softly, and eventually blowing into it to give the rubber the shape. She was a natural, able to make any animal the kids asked for. The parents were confused, but impressed, by Roxy's talents. As soon as she turned the game into seeing how far she could fit snaked-shaped balloon down her throat before it popped, the parents firmly told her to leave.

Heather was having her own issues with friends. At dinner, the group heard the story about how one friend's brother had died. He was late for work, and needed desperately to catch a cab. He ran out into the middle of the road and got slammed into by a taxi. To which Heather said, "Guess he should have worn a glove if he wanted to catch it." After her boisterous laughing died down, she could hear her friends yelling at her to leave.

Neither clown-like woman needed their friends anyway. They were plenty happy staying home, and finding new ways to use balloons to pleasure themselves. Their favorites were shoving a long balloon up their snatches and seeing who could get the furthest before popping (which always made them cum instantly), and squeezing a horn's rubber end with their ass cheeks, seeing who could get the most honks before it fell to the ground.

Food didn't taste the same either. All they wanted to eat now was carnival food. One day they went out to get a funnel cake from a cart. They amassed quite a crowed when they started sucking powdered sugar off of each other's fingers, and licking their lips with loud moans. Their favorite was banana cream pie. However, they would only eat it after it had been thrown at their faces. Same went for drinking seltzer. It had to be sprayed upon their bodies, trying to catch as much of it in their mouth before gulping it all down.

Though they were enjoying themselves immensely, even with the friendship bridges burned, they ran into a problem concerning money. Heather lost her job at the yoga studio she taught at when she turned every position into an excuse to turn it into a tumbling act, or squeezing her student's butts and making honking sounds.

Roxy lost her job at the hospital, as a nurse, because she kept trying to Patch Adams all the patients. But mostly it was because she was caught letting a patient use her cleavage as a bowl for his Jell-o. She explained it was the only way she could get him to eat, but they didn't want to listen to reason. They only really became deterred when they found they couldn't pay their rent in laughter and monopoly money.

The lesbian couple thought long and hard about what to do. Finally, after 7 days of transforming into clowns, they realized there was only one place for a clown to get work. After McDonald's said no, they fell back on the plan of going back to the carnival. When they arrived, their attire had greatly changed since the day they arrived one week ago.

Heather wore a pair of bright pink sneakers, with bulbous ends where her toes were. Her tube socks were normal, white with red striping at the top, except for the fact that they reached up past her knees. Around her hips was a pink skirt, decorated with balloons of various colors. Naturally, it was obscenely short. Whenever she bent over (which was often), everyone could see her white and red heart boy shorts, wedged tightly between her plump and firm cheeks. Her top was a tight pink t-shirt, with a plunging V-neckline, showing off the size of her newly enlarged tits. Over her breasts was a yellow happy face each. Her hair had grown out and turned Crayola red, which she wore up in pigtails tied with various ribbons of different colors, long enough to reach down to her shoulders.

Roxy was still shorter than Heather, but thanks to her green stiletto heels, with laces that ran up her calves, and her own bulbous end over her toes, she could almost match Heather's height. She had managed to save a pair of short denim shorts during the clothes upheaval. However, they were still a bit loose on her now slimmer, but still curvy, shape. So to fix that, she wore a pair of suspenders. They set them too short however, and the straps caused the shorts to ride up against her crotch as ass, just hinting at the chance that either would peek out if she moved her body just the right way.

Unlike Heather, her breasts were completely covered by the simple green tube top she wore. It was so small, however, that all it did was cover up her huge tits, nothing else. The straps of the suspenders were also pushing against their shape, causing them to squeeze out on either size, illustrating their plush and natural state to onlookers. She managed to save her jacket, but with some alterations. The hem now only reached half way down her back. The patches were now pairs of plump women's lips in smiling position, tongues licking candy, and other innocent yet lewd shapes. The color had gone from dark green to bright, matching the shade of lipstick she wore on her pouty and kissable lips.

Pink and green arm sleeves peeked out from behind her rolled up jacket sleeves, and ended at her blue, fingerless, gloves. Roxy's hair had become bright blue, curly, and full of volume. A pink cabby's hat sat nestled at the top of the nest of hair. The skin of both women was pure white now. The only make up they wore was brightly colored eye shadow, lipstick, and bright red lipstick kisses on one cheek, each. Though their destination was Hilareola's tent, they were constantly distracted by opportunities to put on a show.

One act was Roxy giving Heather a supposedly very important pie to hold, while she busied herself with making balloon animals for the kids. Heather kept finding ways for the pie to slip her grasp, just barely catching it before it hit the ground. Each time she did, she bent over at the waist, showing one half the crowd her tempting ass, and the other half her seductive cleavage.

When Roxy had finished, she turned around just as Heather was. The two women bumped into each other, breast to breast, with a pie splattering in between. Roxy stepped back and frowned as Heather gave a regretful smile, her tits covered in pie cream. Both of them shrugged and proceeded to clean off Heather's tits with swipes of their fingers, putting them in the other's mouth to be sucked clean.

One patron, so aroused he forgot his manners, approached Heather, and proposed he and her go around back and have some fun of their own. Heather nibbled on her plump lower lip, beckoning the man to her. As he sucked on her neck and palmed one of her massive globes, Heather moaned deep in her throat.

Suddenly the man felt something push against his leg. When he looked down, he could see Heather's skirt began to rise steadily.

After spitting several times on the ground, he exclaimed that he knew it was too good to be true, and ran off.

Heather looked confused, reaching under her skirt and pulling free a blown up long balloon. With a pout, she put the balloon away the only place she had space - between her jugs. She pressed down and down, twisting it deeper into her valley, causing her tits to bounce constantly as she did. Her pout replaced with a wide smile, she carried on away from the gathered crowd and followed Roxy toward the tent.

When they entered, Hilareola was already waiting for them, clapping her hands, with her hip cocked to one side. The women immediately fell onto their knees at Hilareola's feet, begging for a chance to work with her. Their tears caused their makeup to run, and they had to snort snot back up into their red ball noses. Heather tore at her top in an overly dramatic Brando-esque display of desperation. Roxy pulled out a wallet to open, showing that all that was in there was a moth. Then the moth came back and took her wallet with him.

Hilareola patted both of them on the head and agreed to let them work with her in the show. The moment they stood back up, happy, their clothes and makeup were back in their pristine condition. They were to start at the next show that day. Hilareola stood in the center and introduced them individually. Heather was the first to be called out, under the name Funbags.

Funbags came prancing out with two bags hanging from her arms. She would reach into one after the other, to grab toys and candy to be thrown into the crowd. Roxy was introduced as Honkers. She rode out in a tiny child's car, honking on the horn as she drove. When she stopped, she found her hips too big to get out of the seat, and Hilareola and Funbags had to help her out. Their act continued innocently enough. But as soon as Honkers soaked Funbags's shirt with her seltzer bottle, things began to get more lewd. It all culminated in a final act between Funbags and Honkers.

Anonymous 06/15/17 (Thu) 11:03:03 No.2379

?

Honkers mimed that she was entering an elevator. After a floor, Funbags entered in too. Honkers gave her a once over, whistling loud. Then, sprouting from inside her pants, a balloon acting as her cock began to inch its way out of the right leg of her shorts. Honkers scrambled to cover up. They both mimed that the elevator stopped abruptly, causing the car to shake. This sent Funbags back into Honkers, her skirt flipping up and her ass grinding against the balloon crotch. Half the crowd had become irate, and the other very aroused, but the show continued despite the former.

Funbags gave a shocked face, pursing her lips into an O-shape at the crowed, but she soon started to smile wickedly. She turned, causing her breasts to collide with Honkers'. After giving them a good honk, which actually produced the noise of the same name, and kissing her on her red nose, Funbags dragged herself down her body, sliding her tits against her along the way.

Honkers went cross-eyed and when Funbags got on her knees, zipped open her shorts, and began to fish out the green balloon cock. As soon as the makeshift dick was freed, it sprung out of the fabric and slapped Funbags in the face. She grimaced, and Honkers shyly smiled, but it was only a minor stop before Funbags because to lick the air-filled shaft up and down.

Now people were starting to leave their seats, to find someone to complain to, though many stayed behind. Funbags took more and more of the balloon into her mouth and down her throat, bobbing her head. As soon as her nose beeped against Honkers pelvis, she pulled all the way back. Tthe balloon was gone, and Funbags gave a gulp and a gasp.

Honkers looked disappointed, but then Funbags had an idea. Reaching into her cleavage, she pulled out the same long balloon she had stashed in there earlier. The smile returned to Honker's green lips when the balloon was planted back onto her body, somehow adhering to it. Though many found the act offensive, those that stayed had to admit it was impressive how Funbags was able to mime having her breasts pressed up against the wall of the invisible elevator.

Honkers slid her fake cock up and down between Funbags's cheeks. When her panties came down around her knees, she shoved the balloon's head into the snatch without further delay. Boos mixed with cheers, the latter winning out as the former left in droves. After several spanks and a lot of pumping and moaning, Honkers pulled out and mimed that she was cumming. A shower of confetti burst from the balloon onto Funbag's back and ass. They were so lost in the afterglow that they didn't see Hilareola step in front of the elevator doors, and then gasp when they supposedly opened.

What she walked in on was Funbags giving Honker's a tit job. Startled, Honkers pulled out, but the pleasure was apparently already too late, and this time instead of confetti, she shot a load of pie frosting all over Hilareola's face and chest. When she looked obviously unhappy, the new clowns made a run for it around the ring, to the sound of Benny Hill.

They slipped on the makeshift cum, ran behind walls only to come out the other side with the girls chasing Hilareola, and bouncing all throughout the finale of the act. When Hilareola finally caught them by the ears, she tapped her foot and demanded an explanation.

They both were silent, until Funbags burped, which caused the green balloon cock she had swallowed to shoot out of her mouth, punctured and flying through the air. Then the spot light faded, and the women left.

By the time the police arrived the next day to shut down the carnival after a mass of complaints, they found that it had already packed up and left.

So off the trio went, onto the next town to offend, delight, confuse, and arouse.

Spirit of Vengeance (Odd Transformation female mostly)

#FemaleVariantTransformation

Gonsalves Guler hated his job. The pay was low, the work was dull, and he was extremely unpopular among his co-workers. He came from a poor immigrant family, and worked his butt off to put himself through high school and then through college.

He had graduated with a degree in computer network administration; unfortunately he discovered that there were very few jobs available for him. He took the first one that he could afford, working in the administration office at a local technical college.

It wasn't really Gonsalves' fault that he couldn't get a better job; he had a lot of things going against him. Gonsalves had a thick accent, which made it difficult for him to make himself understood. This in itself may not have been such a big problem, but he also suffered from a number of minor physical defects. He was extremely farsighted, so he was forced to wear very thick glasses. They made his eyes look much bigger than they really were - which had led to his nickname, "Goggles". All of Gonsalves' coworkers called him "Goggles", not realizing that it drove him up the wall. It might not have been so bad if they had been using the name affectionately, but Gonsalves knew that they weren't. When they thought he wasn't listening, or when they e-mailed each other, the people in Gonsalves' office usually called him "Gonzo".

Gonsalves also suffered from an unusually large, hooked nose, which led to his "secret" nickname. Gonsalves' coworkers didn't realize that, as the network administrator, and the only person in the office who was truly computer literate, he could gain access to any files on any computer in the office, and he read their e-mails frequently. He was the butt of many jokes that were told behind his back. He had heard the data entry clerks groaning about how their computers weren't working, and they'd have to ask Gonzo to fix it. He'd seen the e-mail sent around by Pauline, the receptionist, which contained a photograph of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses balanced on a male penis, with the caption "Gonzo". He heard the jokes being told behind his back about how stupid he was, how unattractive he was, and numerous slanders about his sexual preferences and anatomy. He couldn't talk to his boss, Robert, about it, because Robert was one of the worst perpetrators.

Worse yet, Gonsalves couldn't afford to quit his job. His parents were old, and had fallen quite ill - they didn't have health insurance, and every penny he could spare went toward their mounting medical bills. It had taken him months to find this job, and the only reason that they had been able to look past his appearance and his accent was the fact that they were desperate for a network administrator - the toxic work environment at the office had driven every other admin to a better job.

Gonsalves was working late at night, trying to repair the network issues caused by his idiot coworkers that day. He was thankful to have an excuse to miss the staff Christmas party, which was being held in a banquet hall on the floor below. He had no desire to socialize with the sociopaths he had to deal with every day at work.

As he was defragmenting a hard disk, Gonsalves noticed a brown paper package in his mailbox. He hadn't seen the package earlier in the day, and wondered how long it had been there. He walked over and picked it up. The package was wrapped in plain brown paper, and didn't have an address on it.

It merely said "To Gonsalves, From the Spirit of Vengeance - Merry Christmas!"

Gonsalves decided that the package was probably a prank from one of his socially retarded coworkers, so he opened it very carefully, away from his desk. Inside the package was a CD, labeled "New Reality Photo Editor".

Goonsalves was puzzled - none of his coworkers could have created a virus to harass him. He thought it was extremely unlikely that they even knew anyone capable of creating a virus. He recalled one time when Betty in Data Entry called him to fix her computer; he fixed it by turning on the power bar. Gonsalves' curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped the disk into an older computer he had in his cubicle. He disconnected it from the network, to ensure that he wouldn't have to repair more than one computer if the disk turned out to be harmful.

In a few seconds, an interface window popped up on the screen.

It said "Welcome to New Reality Photo Editor. Prepare to harness the most powerful photo and video editing software on the planet."

It had two buttons on the interface - one read "Quit", and the other read "Find photos, videos, and input devices".

Gonsalves clicked the second button, and the computer whirred and hummed for several seconds. A new window popped up, and Gonsalves was amazed at what was contained. In the top part of the window was a list of every image or video file contained on every computer in the building. It was sortable by a number of criteria, including file type, user, department, and subject matter! Gonsalves gulped, and looked at the network cable sitting unplugged on the floor. There was no possible way that this computer could talk to the network - yet somehow, it was able to see what was on every single computer in the building.

The second part of the new window puzzled Gonsalves even more. It was a list of input sources, with thumbnails showing what was available from them. The input sources included every web-cam on the network, several digital cameras that weren't connected to anything at all, and every security camera in and around the building. A chill went down Gonsalves' spine when he saw himself sitting in his cubicle. He looked at the webcam on his main computer, which he theoretically used for video-conferencing with Robert, his boss. Too bad Robert didn't know how to work a web-cam. Gonsalves realized that his web-cam was turned off, yet somehow it was projecting an image onto a computer that wasn't even connected to it.

Gonsalves clicked on the thumbnail beside his web-cam. A large window popped up, with a high-quality, fast frame rate video image of himself on the screen. There were a large number of menu options across the top. Gonsalves played around with the program for a few minutes, astonished at what it was doing. Clearly this was all impossible, so he decided that he must be dreaming. He pinched himself, and realized that he was wide awake. He clicked on himself, and another window popped up, saying "Object selected".

The new window showed a rotating, 3-dimensional, video image of himself in a seated position. Astonishingly, the image showed angles that the camera was incapable of seeing. Gonsalves played with the image, and found that he was able to drag the image into various poses. He chuckled as he pulled the shoes off of his image and put them onto his hands. This software was amazing! He clicked a button that said "Execute Changes", thinking that he would be able to save an image of this onto his computer. A tingling sensation passed over him, and his hands felt funny.

Gonsalves looked down, and cried out in surprise as he saw his shoes on his hands! He leaped to his feet, and quickly pulled the shoes off and threw them on the floor. He looked down, and saw that he was standing in his socks. Somehow this program had the ability to alter reality! He looked at the screen, and saw an image of himself, standing in his socks, staring at a pair of shoes lying in front of himself. Stunned, Gonsalves flopped down in his chair again. The full potential of this software was astounding. Gonsalves was wondering how far the changes could go, when he happened to glance at the "Input Devices" window again.

His sociopath coworkers were celebrating their annual holiday gift exchange in the banquet hall. They were laughing, and telling jokes, and pretending to like the coworkers whom they all secretly hated.

And Gonsalves was watching it all through a set of security cameras. He decided that it was time to test out the limits of this software.

Gonsalves opened up a few windows showing various views of the banquet hall. Amazingly, multiple windows didn't seem to slow down his computer at all. He decided to start small.

Pauline, the beautiful, long-legged and busty blonde receptionist, was fixing her makeup in the ladies' room. Gonsalves had noticed a number of options for editing objects, and decided to try them out. He clicked on Pauline and brought up a spinning image of her on a new window. She was wearing high heels and a slinky red dress, which was quite flattering on her. Gonsalves decided that it wasn't appropriate for the holiday season, however, and that it had to be changed. He dragged the dress off of the image. Before he started editing the dress, he goggled at the sight of Pauline wearing nothing but her panties and her high heels. Her large, perky breasts hung jiggling on her chest as she leaned toward the mirror, fixing her makeup. He looked at the security camera image, and saw that she was still fully clothed.

Gonsalves shook his head, and focused on the task at hand. He was able to use the software to make amazing modifications to the dress, and in a couple of minutes he had turned it into a wraparound dress with a white fur collar and border. It had a wide, black leather belt with a golden buckle. He dragged it back onto Pauline's image, but not before he slid her panties off. The panties were red, as well, which inspired Gonsalves. He played with the program some more, and quickly turned the panties into a red Santa cap, with a fur pom-pom and a border that matched Pauline's new coat. He quickly added fur pom-poms onto the front of Pauline's high heels, and saw that she was starting to leave the ladies' room.

Gonsalves clicked the "Execute changes" button, and watched, to his delight, as Pauline's slinky red dress turned into the red Santa outfit he had created. She didn't notice anything until she returned to the banquet hall - several co-workers started applauding, and Pauline looked confused for a moment. When she looked down at her outfit, there was a brief look of genuine surprise on her face. She clearly had no idea how this outfit got on her. Since it was clearly so popular with the staff, however, Pauline quickly regained her composure and pretended that she had worn the outfit on purpose. When she sat down, a couple of her co-workers were treated to a brief glimpse of her neatly trimmed, black-haired pussy - the coat was quite short, and she didn't yet realize that she wasn't wearing panties anymore.

Gonsalves rubbed his hands together in excitement. Time to try some of the other editing options he had seen.

Gonsalves selected Betty, the data entry clerk. Most of the data entry clerks were middle-aged and fairly unattractive, but Betty was a 22-year old brunette and a fox. She and Pauline hated each other - Betty loathed the way that the 30-ish Pauline shamelessly used her sexuality to get what she wanted; Pauline despised the fact that Betty had a natural young, girlish look that drove most men crazy. Gonsalves didn't really care, because they were both cold, heartless bitches who spoke viciously about anyone and everyone whenever the opportunity expressed itself. He was especially angry at the emails which Betty sent around, lampooning the mild-mannered network administrator.

Gonsalves had discovered that the software could create video sequences, and was interested in whether he could make an actual short scene play out in reality. He worked and fiddled for several minutes, and decided that he was ready to test the sequence out. He clicked "Execute Sequence", and flipped to the security cameras again to enjoy the show.

Betty sat in her green party dress with a glass of wine in her hand. She was telling a rather dull story about a data-entry issue she had faced a few days before, and the people around her were starting to look bored. Betty didn't particularly care, as long as they were listening to her instead of talking. Suddenly, an odd tingling sensation ran down Betty's spine. She stopped talking, set the wine glass down, and stood up. Everyone looked at her curiously. Then Betty felt her hands rise to her shoulders, of their own accord. She tried to force them back down, but found that she couldn't control her own body. It was like she was a puppet on strings, watching helplessly from behind her own eyes. She would have screamed if she could.

As everyone watched, Betty slowly slid the straps of her dress down over her shoulders. She lowered her arms, and the silky fabric slid down her body and pooled on the floor at her feet. She stood in front of the office staff wearing only her black bra and panties. Inside her mind, Betty was panicking and shrieking, but to everyone else she was maintaining the cool, disdainful look she usually affected. The entire office staff was silent. Slowly, Betty's arms rose behind her back, and she unclasped her bra and tossed it casually across the room. Her milky white, a-cup breasts with their small pink nipples were in full view of everyone. Still wearing a cool expression on her face, she reached down and slid her black panties down her legs. She stood up again, and had her neatly trimmed bush on show for her coworkers.

This was too much for the men in the office, and several of them started whooping and whisting the moment she took her bra off. The office ladies gasped with indignation and disdain. Betty stood, as still and as calmly as a statue, for about thirty seconds. Then, suddenly, she felt another tingle go down her spine as she regained control of her body. Betty suddenly shrieked, and covered her chest and her pussy with her hands. She ducked down and tried to pull her dress back up, to protect her modesty, but it disintegrated into threads as soon as she touched it. She screamed again, covered her breasts and crotch once more, and ran shrieking from the banquet hall. She left a chaotic noise of mutters, cheers, growls, and whistles behind her as she fled.

Gonsalves wasn't done with her yet, though. Betty had often claimed that she had "nothing to be ashamed of", and he was amused to see that she was still somehow ashamed of what she had. He pulled up her image again, and decided to see just how far the photo editing could go.

Betty ran screaming into the Ladies' room down the hall, and desperately started searching around for something to cover herself with. She decided that she was going to have to wrap hers elf in toilet paper - as humiliating as that would be, it was better than showing off her breasts and pussy to the entire office again. She figured that she would just dash into the coat room after, grab her jacket, and drive home. She got a roll of toilet paper, and prepared to wrap herself up in it. Then she happened to glance in the mirror.

She gasped, and dropped the roll of paper to the floor. She stared at herself in the mirror, disbelieving. Her breasts had been small before, but looking in the mirror she could not see any sign of them at all. She was as flat-chested as a little girl! More so, in fact, because even her nipples seemed to have disappeared. She touched her chest, and felt the gentle swell of her pectoral muscle beneath her skin, but there was no breast tissue above it at all. Her chest looked like a department store mannequin - from the children's department! As she glanced at herself in the mirror, she received an even bigger shock.

Where she had had a neatly trimmed bush of black curly hair before, now her crotch was completely bald. She reached down, and felt something was wrong. She couldn't feel anything. Normally she could feel her clitoris and her vaginal lips underneath her fingers, but now she couldn't feel the soft folds at all. It was completely blank, and her fingers slid down what felt like an extension of her lower abdomen. She ran her fingers all the way back, until her fingertips touched her anus. She had no pussy at all! She looked at herself in the mirror and started to sob. She didn't know what was happening to her. The only feature on her torso between her chin and her asshole was her belly button. She heard a noise at the bathroom door, and ran into the closest stall.

Betty tried to be as still and as quiet as possible as the unknown person entered the bathroom. She perched on top of the toilet seat, praying that nobody knew she was in the toilet stall. She glanced down at her featureless chest and pussy and shuddered.

Robert, the office manager, opened the door of the ladies' room and looked around. He held Betty's black panties and bra in his hand - he tried to make a show of being gallant, and rescuing a damsel in distress, but actually he just wanted to see the cute data entry clerk naked again. Besides, he wasn't interested in Pauline's attempts to ridicule Betty even more, now that she had humiliated herself and fled the room. Robert didn't see anyone, and was about to continue his search elsewhere, when he noticed the partly-unrolled roll of toilet paper sitting underneath the bathroom sink. He decided that the ladies' room could use a more thorough inspection, and he slipped inside.

"Betty? Betty?"

Betty hear Robert's voice calling. She shrank back on the toilet seat. What would she do if he figured out that she was there? Suddenly the door of her toilet stall shook, as Robert tried to open it! Betty thanked God that she had the presence of mind to lock the stall. Too bad that she wasn't clever enough to realize that her stall was the only one with a closed door.

"Betty, are you in there?" Robert called.

Betty braced her hands against the sides of the stall, and put her feet up against the stall door to hold it shut in case the latch slipped. She held her breath, and hoped that Robert would give up and go away. Robert, on the other hand, wasn't quite as stupid as Betty. He walked into the next stall, quietly stepped up onto the toilet seat, and slowly peered over the dividing wall. He was treated to the sight of Betty sitting almost spread-eagled on the toilet, pressing her feet on the door and her hands on the wall. He might have gotten away with a longer peek, except that he noticed the strange blank areas at her crotch and on her chest. Having seen her pussy and tits just a minute ago, he knew that something strange was happening. He gasped quietly, but loudly enough that Betty heard him, shrieked, and covered herself up again.

Meanwhile, up in the office, Gonsalves decided that it would not do to have people coming and going as they wished. There was far too much to do. He used the photo editing software to erase the doors out of the banquet hall and the ladies' room, so that his victims were trapped inside until he was done with them. Then he brought the ladies' room camera up again. He couldn't see what was going on very well - the one camera in the washroom didn't let him see inside the toilet stalls. He could see that Robert was standing with his head above one of the stalls, looking down into the stall with the closed door, but he couldn't tell what was going on inside. Then he had an idea. Gonsalves used the photo editing software to put a camera behind the bathroom mirror, which he then turned into a one-way mirror. Now he could see the toilet stalls head-on. Then he erased the door of the closed stall. Robert and Betty looked at where the door had been, shocked, but at least Gonsalves could see what was going on.

Betty was wearing her black panties again, and was trying to put on her bra. She was having a bit of trouble getting it to fit right, probably because she was even flatter in the chest than usual. Gonsalves decided to help her out, by deleting the bra with the photo editor. Then he deleted Betty's panties. Betty tried to cover herself up again, and Gonsalves decided that it wasn't fair for Betty to have to be humiliated all by herself. He clicked on Robert, and started to delete the office manager's clothing. In a few seconds, Robert was standing completely naked on the toilet, leering over the wall at the naked Betty. His small penis stood bravely at attention. It took a few seconds more for Robert to realize that he was naked too. His face turned bright red, and he hopped off of the toilet seat, covering his smallish member with both hands, looking around for his clothes.

Gonsalves decided that it wasn't fair for Betty to miss seeing Robert in the buff, so he started deleting the fixtures in the bathroom. Soon, the toilets, stalls, and sinks were completely gone, and Betty and Robert were left standing in a featureless green-tiled room with only a large mirror on one wall for decoration. They were both still covering themselves, but Gonsalves could see that they were talking to each other. To his delight, after a couple of minutes, Betty uncovered herself, letting Robert see her blank chest and groin. Robert uncovered himself too, to poke gently at the place where Betty's small breasts had been. Gonsalves started to erase Robert's thick, dark body hair, and Betty noticed this happening. She started to chuckle when she noticed Robert's small erection. It was perhaps 4" long, fully erect, which was smaller than Betty was used to. When Robert's pubic hair faded away, it looked more like a child's penis than a grown man's. Robert turned red again, and tried to cover himself up.

Then Gonsalves decided that it wasn't fair for Robert to have something to be ashamed of, if Betty had nothing. He copied Betty's blank crotch, and pasted it over Robert's with his photo editor. He used a number of tools to make the skin color match better, and erased Robert's small nipples at the same time - out of a sense of fairness. The he clicked "Execute Changes".

Robert gasped as he felt his small penis shrink away from his hands. He pulled them away to see what was happening, and screamed in horror as he looked down at his blank crotch. Betty's eyes opened wide, although to be honest she was slightly relieved now that she was not the only sexless person in the room. Robert and Betty sat down on the floor, and started talking again. Soon they were both in tears, hugging each other. Appparently they had realized that the door to the room had vanished, and they had no idea how to get out of their current predicament. Gonsalves thought it was sad that they had nothing to do, so he started to edit their images again. He decided that he would try to run another video sequence, and started editing.

Robert and Betty were holding each other, still crying, when they both felt a strange tingling sensation. They pulled away from each other, and looked down at their bodies, hoping that they would return to normal. At first they were clearly very excited, as small nipples started to reappear on their chests. Betty reached up to fondle her breasts, expecting them to grow back into her hands. She was disappointed. Instead of soft, feminine globes growing into her hands, she felt her pectoral muscles growing wider and harder. She moved her hands away from her chest, and saw that her chest looked wider than normal. She stood up, and looked at herself in the mirror. Funny, her shoulders looked broader than usual, and her chest and abdomen looked more muscular than she had seen them before. Her hips and legs were still slim and feminine, and her arms and face retained all of their girlish charm. Even her skin still was pale and feminine, but her chest and stomach looked somewhat masculine. They were still completely smooth and devoid of hair, but she had chest muscles like a male athlete. She looked over at Robert, dismayed that her breasts hadn't returned, and gasped at what she saw.

Robert was still sitting on the floor, with his mouth agape. In his hands he cupped two large, undeniably feminine breasts. They were already much larger than Betty's had been - a C-cup, at least. And what's more, they looked like they were still growing. Betty pulled Robert to his feet, and made him look in the mirror. They both gasped at what they saw. Normally Robert was several inches taller than Betty, but now they looked to be almost exactly the same height. Robert's new breasts continued to grow, until they were a large DD-cup size. His arms were still masculine and muscled, and his face and legs were as manly as they had ever been (apart from the total lack of body hair). His shoulders looked a little narrow, though, and the large, firm breasts sitting high on his chest were most certainly not masculine at all. They were topped with small, hard nipples. Betty reached over and gave one a squeeze. Robert gasped as an unexpected shock of pleasure ran through his body. He was horrified by the large, heavy, and sexually sensitive globes hanging off of his chest.

Then they both felt a strane tingling sensation in their groins. Both shuddered, expecting to end up with the wrong set of sexual organs. Robert looked down at his crotch, waiting to see what would happen. His heart started to lift as he saw a small bump appear on his groin. As he watched, a small but unmistakably male organ started to grow out of his crotch. Soon a tiny scrotum appeared, with two little testicles rolling around inside. Robert grinned - even if he had lost a few inches of height, and had grown a giant pair of tits, at least he had his manhood back! He looked over at Betty, and saw that a moist slit was reappearing between her legs. She didn't have any tits, and her chest looked distinctly muscular and masculine, but at least she was still a woman. Robert looked down at his own penis - it was painfully erect, although it was barely two inches long. Without any hair on it, it hardly looked like a man's penis at all. The only sign that it belonged to a mature man were the thick blue veins visible just under the surface.

They waited several minutes. Betty thought that her pussy looked a little looser and the slit looked a little longer than she remembered. She decided that it was probably just the fact that it was still completely bald. Robert was a little distraught, because his penis had apparently stopped growing at two inches. Both of them were feeling very aroused. Robert's nipples were poking out like diamonds, and his penis was leaking slightly at the tip. Vaginal fluid was dribbling slowly down the inside of Betty's leg. They glanced at each other, and then looked away. They glanced again, and soon their intense arousal was almost too much to bear. After one more quick glance, the two office workers jumped on each other, drooling with lust. They kissed and fondled each other for a few seconds, but the burning need for penetration pulsed within them like nothing they had felt before.

Robert rammed his tiny cock into Betty's pussy. Oddly, he didn't find the tight hole he was hoping for. Betty was disappointed at the fact that Robert's tiny member barely reached past her labia. She ground against him, and managed to rub her clit against his tiny cock. That felt good, but it wasn't enough. She needed her clit stimulated, and a nice deep penetration, before she would be satisfied. She pulled away from Robert, and pushed him back when he tried to penetrate her again. Her eyes opened wide with surprise when she looked at her crotch. Her clitoris was hard, and stuck out a good three inches from her pussy. It was half again as big as Robert's cock, and almost as big as his erect penis had been before his transformation. It seemed to be a little higher up her abdomen than it was supposed to be, too.

"Your cock isn't big enough" Betty panted, "You'll have to use your fingers."

Robert was disappointed, but realized that this young woman wasn't going to let him get off unless he did what she wanted. He poked his index finger up Betty's well-lubricated vagina, and started to thrust.

"Deeper!" Betty commanded, barely able to feel Robert's finger in her cunt. What was he using, his pinky? Robert added another finger, poking his index and middle finger inside the woman's eager pussy.

"Suck my clit!" exclaimed Betty. Robert put his mouth over the giant, engorged clit, and started to suck it. Betty shuddered with pleasure. The clitoris was like a thumb in Robert's mouth. "Deeper!" Betty moaned. Robert started thrusting four fingers in Betty's pussy, but it still didn't feel full to Betty. She kept shouting "Deeper! Deeper!" at Robert.

Soon, Robert had his entire fist in Betty's pussy, and was ramming it in up to his elbow. Finally Betty felt more or less full, although she wished he had a bigger arm. After a couple of minutes of Robert frantically pumping his arm in her pussy, and sucking her clit, she orgasmed in an intense explosion. Fluid squirted out of her pussy, soaking Robert's upper body. She moaned and went limp, and her swollen clit started to deflate. She felt fulfilled, and started to move away from Robert.

"My turn!" exclaimed Robert, and Betty sighed and turned to his tiny cock. She licked it, and slipped her mouth over it. She licked and sucked his tiny member like a baby's pacifier. Robert moaned and rubbed his nipples. After a couple of minutes, Robert started to moan and shudder. He had never felt multiple orgasms before, but now he was in the throes of them. Betty prepared to pull herself away when he ejaculated, but for some reason he never did. Robert moaned and shuddered for two or three minutes before Betty finally stopped pleasuring him. He continued to shudder and moan for almost a minute after she stopped.

Gonsalves decided that he would have to come back to the odd couple soon, but first he had plans for the guests in the banquet hall…

Gonsalves turned back to the banquet hall. Nobody had noticed that the door had vanished. Most of the staff were standing in a circle around the food table, laughing and joking. What a farce, thought Gonsalves. They all hate each other, and they all know that they all hate each other, but they pretend to like each other anyhow. He started planning on how he could humiliate them all.

Then Gonsalves thought back to Betty and Robert in the Ladies' room. Once they realized that they were both undergoing strange changes, they had stopped being ashamed and started being afraid. Gonsalves was feeling mean-spirited, but he did not want to frighten his co-workers… well, not much. He was much more interested in seeing them humiliated and embarrassed in front of each other. He decided that he would make most of the changes more subtle, so that his co-workers might not even notice them until they got home. Then he would get to see them trying to hide the changes at work the next day. Gonsalves almost cackled with glee at his idea. He then restored the door to the banquet hall - people would need to leave for his plan to work. He left the ladies' room alone, however - he wasn't finished with Robert and Betty yet.

Then he decided that there were a couple of people who deserved to be humiliated at the party, before they went home. The first was Jeffrey, the assistant office manager. Gonsalves decided to see just how far the photo editor could go in terms of changing someone's body. He knew that he could change their clothing and their appearance with virtually no limits. He wasn't sure how he had made Betty and Robert have sex, but he suspected it had to do with the fact that he go the images for their new genitals from photos and videos of people who were obviously highly aroused. Could he cause the physically impossible to happen?

Gonsalves selected Jeffrey and brought up a nude image of him in the editing window. It was fascinating how he could strip someone completely naked in the editing window, but they remained completely unchanged until he clicked "execute changes". Jeffrey was a short man - about 5"4" tall - and was very fit and muscular. He was also an arrogant prig who was always trying to throw his weight around, to intimidate the other employees. Gonsalves looked at the nude image and saw that, like Robert, Jeffrey had an unusually small penis. That explains a lot, he thought. Gonsalves started going through his photo archives, until he found what he was looking for. It was a short video clip of a cherub statue and fountain from somewhere in Italy. The cherub was dancing over a lily pad, and a stream of water was gushing from the little angel's penis. Gonsalves started editing the images, wondering what would happen.

Barbara from Accounting was regaling the group with another derogatory tale about Betty, when Jeffrey felt a strange tingling in his groin. Jeffrey looked around, and surreptitiously glanced down at his crotch. Nothing unusual, as far as he could tell. Then, suddenly, a small wet sot appeared in the middle of his crotch. Jeffrey's eyes widened, and he tried to casually cover the area. A cold, damp feeling started to spread down his inner thighs. He crossed his legs, trying to hide the fact that he seemed to be wetting himself. Jeffrey tried to clamp down his bladder muscles as hard as he could, but for some reason he couldn't get them to respond at all. For a brief moment, Jeffrey wondered why the feeling was a cold, damp feeling, instead of a warm, damp feeling - but the thought was chased from his mind when someone noticed his condition. Linda, a fat and middle-aged data entry clerk, looked at Jeffrey's pants and started to chuckle. "I think you've had enough punch, my boy" she condescended.

Jeffrey started to give a scathing response, but this just attracted the attention of everyone else in the room. He stood up and tried to turn away from the group, in shame, but the dark stain kept spreading down his pants. Soon he felt his socks getting wet, and the flow didn't seem to be slowing down. Jeffrey felt tears of humiliation running down his cheeks. The assembled group, being the vindictive bunch that they were, started laughing out loud at their power-hungry assistant office manager, as he stood wetting himself uncontrollably in the middle of the banquet hall.

Jeffrey finally decided that enough was enough, and bolted from the room. His socks squished and sloshed in his shoes, and he left a trail of damp footprints behind him. The entire office was in an uproar, with people laughing so hard that they could barely control themselves. Gonsalves noted who was laughing the hardest - he actually felt sorry for some of his co-workers; they ridiculed him, but he now realized that they were victims of some of the more vicious people in the office. Gonsalves was an easy target, and making fun of him was the only way some of them could defend themselves. But there were still several people at the party who weren't getting off the hook that easily. Gonsalves started to work on his more subtle changes, while the group slowly got control of themselves.

Jeffrey, meanwhile, ran out the door and across the hall to the men's room. He locked the door behind him, thinking that he might be able to empty his bladder and get himself cleaned up. He wasn't sure how he would live down this humiliation, but he already was starting to think of degrading tasks he could force on his subordinates tomorrow. Jeffrey noticed that his bladder was still gushing forth, so he rushed over to a urinal and undid his soggy pants. When he saw what was in between his legs, he almost fell backwards in shock. His pubic hair was completely gone; his penis had turned into bronze. It looked completely flaccid, although it was only slightly smaller than normal. When he touched it, however, it felt as hard as a rock. It was also cold to the touch. Cold, clear water was pouring from the tip in an apparently endless stream. He couldn't feel anything with his penis.

The strangest part was the way that the metal somehow slowly faded into the flesh of his groin. As he drew his finger along the top of his crotch, he could feel more and more as his finger ran towards the flesh-colored side. He tried again to stop the flow by clenching his bladder; it seemed as though his bladder muscles were completely useless (in fact, they were completely gone, but Jeffrey didn't know that). He shuddered, and then pressed his fingertip against the tip of his bronze penis. He found that, with enough pressure, the flow stopped completely. He sighed in relief, and managed to pull his shoes, socks, and pants off with his free hand. He started to dry them off under the electric had dryer. He was relieved that he seemed to be peeing water, instead of urine, assuming that it wouldn't stink later on.

Drying the sodden pants, underwear, and socks was a time-consuming process, even with both hand dryers going at once. Jeffrey didn't finish until everyone else at the party had gone home. As he was waiting for his garments to dry out, however, Jeffrey noticed a pressure building up in his bladder. After a few minutes, the pressure started to feel painful. Jeffrey started to worry about how he was going to make it home, if he couldn't stop his metal penis from leaking. After a few minutes more, the pressure was almost unbearable, and Jeffrey had to rush over to the urinals again and release his finger from the tip of his penis. The water gushed forth, and it took almost five minutes before the pressure in his bladder went away. As his bladder emptied, the flow of water diminished slightly, from a gushing stream to a moderate trickle. It didn't stop. Jeffrey discovered that he had to take about five minutes to empty his bladder every half hour or so. It was going to be a long night…

Meanwhile, back in the banquet hall, Pauline was getting tired of wearing her red Santa cap. She reached up, and pulled it off of her head. A gasp went up from several of the ladies, as they saw what happened. As Pauline lifted the cap from her head, her long blonde hair came off with it. It took a moment for Pauline to realize what the ladies were staring at. She looked down at her cap, and saw that a long, blonde wig was stuck inside it. A split second later, the cogs and wheels clicked in place in Pauline's mind, and her hand shot up to her head. She felt a smooth, shining, and totally hairless scalp underneath her hand. Her hair was gone! She rubbed her entire head in disbelief… she had always been very proud of her gorgeous, thick locks of rich blonde hair. Somehow, it was all missing from her head! She looked at the wig in her hand, and saw that it was every bit as soft and gorgeous as her hair had been. Pauline screamed.

The rest of the conversation died down, and was replaced by more laughter, as everyone else noticed Pauline's shiny, bald head glinting in the fluorescent light. How had she worked there so long, without anyone figuring out that she wore a wig? Barbara, the bitch from Accounting, was quicker on her feet than most of the office. She quickly snatched the cap and wig out of Pauline's hand, and threw it across the room. It snagged on a light fixture, and dangled from the ceiling, the lowest locks of hair at least 10' off the floor. Pauline shrieked, and ran over to it, trying to retrieve her precious locks. As she jumped up and down underneath the dangling wig, trying desperately to get a grip on it, the men in the room started to feel their pants tighten in the crotch. Pauline's red, fur-lined dress barely reached below her ass when she was standing normally. Now that she was jumping up and down in the air, it was lifting up clean past her hips, giving everyone in the room an unobstructed view of her neatly trimmed pussy and her round, firm ass. Pauline was embarrassed enough thinking that everyone could see her panties. It wasn't until she got home that night that she realized that she hadn't been wearing any!

After Pauline finally climbed onto a chair and yanked her wig off the light fixture, and left the party in tears, the other attendees decided that they had enjoyed enough of other people's pain and humiliation for one night, and started to filter out of the banquet hall. One or two women looked for the ladies' room, but couldn't seem to find it anywhere. Gonsalves hurriedly finished up the changes he was preparing to enjoy on the following day.

Gonsalves worked late into the night, modifying his co-workers. He was exhausted, and was about to go home for the weekend, when he remembered that he still had Robert and Betty trapped in the ladies' room. Gonsalves brought up the window again, and finished their changes before he logged out and went home for the night.

Betty and Robert were so tired from their frightening experiences, and their passionate lovemaking, that they had fallen asleep on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom. Betty woke up first. She looked around at the bathroom, hoping that her experiences that evening had all been just a bad dream. The sinks, stalls, and door had all reappeared. Betty started to sigh with relief when she looked down at her body. She gasped when she saw herself.

Not only was Betty still completely naked, her body was hardly recognizable. She was covered in dark, curly body hair, especially on her chest, stomach, and crotch. Her arms and legs had thinner hair, but it was still dark and stood out starkly against her lily-white skin. Betty stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face and head looked exactly the same as always, but her breasts were still gone. In their place was a broad, well-muscled, and very masculine-looking chest. Her thin neck sat on a pair of broad, muscular shoulders. Her arms and legs were thick and wiry, and her waist was narrow. Her body looked like a man's, except for the pussy hidden beneath her thick, dark mat of pubic hair, which extended up to her navel and well down her thighs.

Betty felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, then realized that Robert's suit and her dress had magically reappeared on the counter, along with their underwear. Betty slipped her panties on, and started to pull on her dress. She looked at herself in the mirror, and realized that she looked ridiculous. Her long, muscular, hairly legs stuck out from the bottom of the dress, which was stretched almost to the breaking point across her flat, muscular chest and stomach. The dress was much too small, and much too short - Betty realized that she must be over six feet tall now. Betty glanced over at the sleeping body of Robert. She assumed it was Robert, although it looked like a very voluptuous woman from this angle. Betty squirmed out of the dress, and pulled on Robert's suit over her panties. It looked like Robert's suit, but it fit her perfectly. She pulled on the shoes and socks she found, but left the necktie on the counter. She saw her car keys on the edge of the sink, and grabbed them. She slipped out the door, and cautiously ran to her car to head home.

The sound of the door creaking open startled Robert awake. He looked around, and found himself alone in the Ladies' room. Like Betty, Robert also noticed that the fixtures and stalls had reappeared, and hoped that he had just been dreaming. He sat up, and felt an unfamiliar shifting of weight on his chest. He looked down at himself, only to see two massive breasts jiggling on his naked, hairless chest. Robert stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw his head atop an extraordinarily curvaceous, sexy female body. It was completely hairless, and Robert felt his groin tingle at the sight. He suddenly realized that he couldn't see his crotch in the mirror - the counter was as high as his waist. He realized that he must be less than five feet tall now! Robert stepped back, and pulled his large, soft boobs to either side in order to look at his crotch. Hanging halfway down his thighs was the biggest, thickest cock he had seen in his life. It was starting to stiffen. Robert decided he needed to get dressed quickly, so he could go and see a doctor. He noticed a pair of men's underpants on the counter, and a dress that looked just like the one Betty had stripped off the night before. Robert quickly pulled them on. The underpants rode up the crack of his ass a bit, but they managed to contain the massive bulge of his penis and proportionately-large testicles. He then pulled the dress on. It was extremely tight, and showed off every curve of his body. His nipples poked through the chest, and his crotch bulged out at the waist. Robert couldn't see a bra, and decided to leave the black ladies' pumps on the floor where they were. He spotted his own car keys, grabbed them, and jiggled out to his car.

————————–

The next Monday saw a record number of employees calling in sick, including (not surprisingly) Robert, Betty, and Pauline. Gonsalves was disappointed by the poor turnout, but saw that there were still plenty of people to give him a show, and let him savour his revenge. He was sorry that he had made so many of the changes take effect before the weekend - it hadn't occurred to him that so many people would smply stay home. He was glad that he had made some of the changes time-delayed, and was prepared to enjoy them as they came into effect that day. But first, he decided to check how some of his already-changed victims were trying to hide their new developments.

Barbara, the bitch from accounting, had received several compliments on her new, darker hair. Some people even asked if she had lost weight. Oddly enough, Barbara hadn't seemed pleased at the comments. Instead, she muttered apologetically at each comment, and turned her eyes down. Barbara had awoken on Saturday morning feeling great. She had run her hands down her body in the morning, still bleary-eyed, and had felt a slimmer, firmer body than she had ever possessed underneath. She ran to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and gasped. Her body was, indeed, much slimmer than it had been - not skinny, but toned, with perky breasts pushing out the front of her nightgown. Her face looked slimmer, and a few years younger, as well. Instead of the body and face of a middle-aged, divorced housewife, she now had the body of an athletic, but healthily curved, thirty year old woman.

She wasn't pleased, however. This was probably due to the fact that her long brown hair had truned bright pink overnight, and her face sported several piercings. Barbara quickly removed the piercings, and determined that she would be able to cover the holes with makeup. She grabbed her dark brown hair dye, and started to cover up the shocking, gaudy pink color of her hair. When it was time to rinse out the dye, Barbara pulled off her nightgown and headed to the showed. As she passed the bathroom mirror again, she nearly fainted. Her body was covered in tattoos - a large dragon coiled up her right arm, while a thorny chain of roses wrapped around her left. Her legs were covered in butterflies down to the knees. There were tiny angel wings tattooed on her back. Her large, and newly-perky breasts had writing across them - in bold Gothic letters, the tattoos read "CAN I BE YOUR SLUT?". Her nipples were pierced, and joined together by a loose silver chain. Her flat, toned stomach sported the hilt of a sword, which pointed down into her tight, but completely hairless, pussy. Her lower back sported an arrow pointing to her anus, captioned with the words "Insert fat, hairy cock here".

Mortified, Barbara tried to scrub the tattoos off in the shower. It quickly became apparent that these tattoos were permanent. She also couldn't figure out how to remove the nipple rings - they seemed to be completely unbroken hoops of metal. She quickly learned that the chain made it impossible to wear a bra with any degree of comfort. To her even greater surprise, a few days later she noticed that her dark hair was growing bright pink roots.

Gonsalves laughed when he saw Barbara trying to cover herself up with pants and a high-necked shirt. He decided that he would have to help her show off her new body art the next time she was meeting with the executives.

He noticed that Janice, the fat Admissions clerk, had figured out a way to stuff her bra to make it appear as though she still possessed her massive, jiggling mammaries, instead of the saggy a-cups he had given her.

Across from her sat Frank, the credit officer, who seemed surprisingly comfortable and relaxed considering he had lost his male appendages and gained a heavily menstrating vagina.

Sarah in Accounts Payable had worn a turban-like hat, which did an excellent job of covering up the large rabbit-ears which had replaced the delicate ears she was born with.

Gonsalves was disappointed at the ease with which his victims were hiding their changes. He understood, of course, that those who couldn't hide their changes so easily had chosen to stay home. He decided that it was time to start enjoying his delayed changes.

He flipped open a window which showed Rebecca, a slutty HR officer, giving a performance review to Sandy, a low-level manager. Rebecca had been instrumental in making sure that Gonsalves never got promoted to a better department; Sandy didn't interact with Gonsalves directly, but seemed to have a sour look about her at all times, making herself unapproachable. Both women were quite attractive; Rebecca was a slim Asian woman with impeccable taste in clothes, while Sandy was a more voluptuous redhead.

Rebecca had just finished telling Sandy that she needed to show a sense of humour around the office, when her voice suddenly faded away. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. She took a sip of water, and tried to speak again - still nothing. Sandy looked at her expectantly. Rebecca tried to speak again, when she felt somethign hard in her mouth. It felt like a small, smooth pebble. She delicately reached up to her mouth and pulled out the object. She looked at it, and saw Sandy's eyes go wide as they realized what it was. Rebecca was holding a tooth in her fingers! Rebecca reached into her mouth again, to find the hole where the tooth had come from. As she touched her teeth, they loosened and fell out. Rebecca spat out a mouthful of teeth, and started to scream. At least, she TRIED to scream - no sound came out of her mouth at all. She felt her teeth with her tongue, to see how many had fallen out. The slightest pressure from her tongue, however, was enough to loosen the rest of her remaining teeth. She spat them out into her hand, and felt her toothless, but bloodless, gums with a fingertip.

"You call that a sense of humor?" said Sandy, with a scowl. "That's just disgusting, is all."

Then Sandy felt a strange tightness in her chest. She glanced down, and noticed that her breasts seemed to be pushing out farther than they should. As she watched, she could see them expanding slightly under her jacket. She also felt the chair getting slightly tighter around her buttocks. Wat was going on? She looked back up at Rebecca, who wass staring at her wide-eyed.

"What?" demanded Sandy.

Rebecca slowly raised a finger and pointed at Sandy's nose.

Sandy reached up and felt her nose. It had less sensation than she was used to. She pulled out her compact mirror and looked at her face. Her nose had turned bright red, and was growing round and bulbous. Sandy screamed. She tried to stand up to leave the room, but her ass had grown very quickly in the previous seconds, and was now stuck in her chair. The unexpected weight of the chair caused Sandy to lose her balance, and she fell flat on her face. When she pulled herself up, she was shocked to see that her breasts had grown quite large, and stuck out of her chest like a pair of balloons. The buttons on her blouse were straining. She reached up and grabbed one of her breasts, and gave it a light squeeze. To her shock and horror, a honking sound, not unlike a bicycle horn, escaped from her large ass as she squeezed her tit. She fainted.

Substitution Games

by Anton Psychopoulos, Ph.D.

#FemaleVariantTransformation

Andrea Foster checked over her PowerPoint one more time, and confirmed that her laptop's battery was fully charged. She was ready to make the presentation to Mr. Huo of the Sunwukong Corporation, the most important presentation of her career. She was ready to save JCN CyberScience.

She shut the laptop down, slipped it into its carrying bag, slung it jauntily over her shoulder, exited her office and walked directly into pandemonium.

Dick Ramnarain, the CEO of JCN, was smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand while his PA, Albert DeMatteis, tried to calm him down. Ben Grayson and Gim Kelly, Andrea's leading software designers, were yelling at one another while a petite Asian woman in a slinky black dress stood to one side, watching it all with detached amusement. The woman was a stranger, strikingly beautiful. Her anomalous presence was almost enough to distract Andrea from Dick's tantrum.

Andrea walked up to Dick and laid a hand on his arm, hoping to get him to stop smacking himself. He ignored her. She was used to seeing him lose his temper when things were going badly, but this was the worst she'd yet seen.

"Dick, Dick, come on, what's the problem?"

Albert shook his head.

"The problem is that Mister Huo specifically asked for a tall redhead for his escort this evening, and the agency sent Ms. Lee here," he said, gesturing towards the Asian woman, who rolled her eyes in disgust.

Andrea felt a chill descend on her.

"So we've got no date for Mr. Huo, and less than an hour to find one, is that it?"

Dick stopped smacking his forehead and stared at Andrea. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"This contract will move us from seven figures annually to eight. On the other hand, if we don't get it, we're liable to go under within a year."

Andrea nodded emphatically. No-one had to tell her how important the contract was for the company, or what it would mean to her personally. She'd accepted stock options in lieu of half her salary for nearly a year.

"We're leveraged up to our nuts," Albert butted in. He was always speaking in Americanisms, sometimes of his own invention. Andrea put up a hand to silence him.

"Yes, I know perfectly well that we're highly geared. So, Dick, you've got an idea how to salvage this?"

Dick leaned in closer, still holding her wrist.

'We need a tall redhead to sit next to Mr. Huo at dinner."

"Yes, I understand."

He swallowed hard.

"A tall redhead. Like you."

Andrea jerked back, freeing her wrist, nearly colliding with Patty Lanning, her PA, just now bustling into the melee.

"But I can't be his goddamn date! What, and give my presentation while holding his hand?"

Dick grinned at her, and then at Patty.

"Yeah, but see, I've got it all figured out. Huo's never met you, or even talked with you on the phone. He doesn't know what you look like or anything. So you can be just the girl from the escort service, see, and–"

He pointed at Patty.

"-and you can be Ms. Andrea Foster!"

He grabbed Patty's wrist this time, silencing the young blonde's inarticulate objections.

"You know what's in Andi's presentation, right? You can stand in for her, give the presentation to Mr. Huo, right?"

"Um, yeah . . . sure," Patty said dubiously.

"Great. And you–"

He pointed at the little Asian woman.

"You can give Andi some quick pointers on how to handle herself with Mr. Huo."

Andrea expected the woman to think the plan was idiotic, and not being a JCN employee, to tell him so to his face. Instead, she flashed a dazzling smile and said, "I'd be delighted, Sir. Let's start right away."

The woman gestured towards Andrea's office. She smiled at Patty, looking over her twin set and skirt.

"You should come, too. You can't be Ms. Foster in an outfit from Portman's."

Telling herself that she hadn't actually agreed to anything, Andrea followed the woman.

"I'm Joy Lee, by the way," the woman said when the door closed.

"Andrea Foster," she said uncertainly. "Patty Lanning. Now, how am I supposed to . . . ?"

"I think you can wear this," Joy said, brushing her hand down the front of her dress.

"What? You've got to be kidding. I'm not shaped anything like you - I thought that was the whole problem."

"It won't fit the same way, but let me show you - I think it can be done. Here, take off your suit."

Andrea obeyed dubiously, stripping down to bra, panties and pantyhose. Joy shrugged the dress off , standing casually in only a black thong while she waited for Andrea.

'The bra, too, hon - you'll never be able to wear it with this dress."

Andrea obeyed, blushing furiously.

Joy handed Andrea's suit to Patty.

"See how this fits. You'll look more like Ms. Foster, and you'll feel more like her, too, just try it."

Andrea allowed Joy to wrestle the dress over her head, feeling as though she were being stuffed into a sausage casing. Even leaving it unzipped in back, it was a tight fit.

Next, Joy surprised her by snipping off the dress's spaghetti straps with Andrea's own desk scissors. Joy slipped on her coat and vanished, leaving Andrea holding up the cups of the dress with her hands, and returned with a pair of men's dress shoes.

"Everyone's making sacrifices for the company tonight," Joy observed, pulling the laces from the shoes.

"Some more than others," Andrea grumbled. She looked over at Patty, and saw the young secretary preening herself in Andrea's expensive suit. It fit her very well, aside from the pants being too long.

Joy safety-pinned the shoelaces inside the dress, creating longer straps than it was made to have. When she was done with her hasty redesign, the triangular cups of the dress just barely covered Andrea's nipples. The hem of the dress, though, was still bunched up around her hips.

"You'll have to take off the undies, I'm afraid."

"My God, I can't, not in a dress this short!"

"It's not going to drape right otherwise. Maybe if you wore a thong, but not with hip huggers and pantyhose."

Gritting her teeth, Andrea pulled off her panties and hose, struggling to keep from exposing herself in front of her PA. Joy stood by, smiling patiently. Standing there comfortably in just a thong, the lovely Asian woman shamed Andrea out of her modesty. When she was done, Joy tugged the hem down and smoothed the dress a bit. Andrea shuddered at the touch of her hands.

Andrea looked in the mirror and was disturbed. The dress that had been form-fitting and perhaps just a trifle short on the petite Asian looked on Andrea like it was painted on, and barely covered her crotch. The fabric was so tight across her hips that it gave her a distinct camel toe. Patty, dressed in Andrea's suit, the pant legs pinned up, placed a pair of black high heels and a tiny purse on Andrea's desk.

"Found these in your closet. They ought to do, I guess.'

She gave her boss an encouraging thumbs-up and left the office with Andrea's laptop over her shoulder.

Joy looked Andrea over.

"Yeah, I guess it'll do. Come on, let me do your makeup."

She used Andrea's own makeup kit, but Andrea could tell that a lot more was going onto her face than usual. The foundation and highlighting on her collarbones and breasts were quite a surprise, but understandable, considering how much flesh she was showing.

"Don't bite your lip, you'll get lipstick on your teeth. What's the matter?"

"Joy, do you - do I really look good enough to be believable as an escort?"

"The dress is a long way from perfect, but it's clingy and shows a lot, and that helps. The makeup is going pretty good. Tilt your head back a little more."

"I mean . . . I mean me. My face is all wrong, and my boobs are too small and they hang too low, and I'm too old, aren't I?"

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-six."

"I'm thirty-one."

"Really? Gee. But look, I look maybe ten years older than you, so -"

"No you don't. And once I get done with your cheekbones, your face will be just fine, and your boobs are in great shape for being all-natural."

Andrea smiled at that.

"You can tell?"

"Of course. Part of the job, like knowing how to do makeup, or fit a dress on the fly. You could maybe get some small implants, take you up to a C, take up a little slack and round 'em out some, but as I said, for natural, they're great."

Andrea blushed. Joy seemed to be thinking of her as "the new girl", rather than as an amateur filling in just the one time. The thought of this woman treating her like a colleague, a peer, was both comforting and disturbing.

Joy finished Andrea's makeup and let her look in the mirror. It was heavy and bold, nothing like what Andrea would willingly wear even for the evening, but not as bad as Andrea had feared.

"You're good. Ever thought of working as a cosmetologist?"

"Maybe one day. Cosmetology, couture, fashion photography, I've thought about it. Definitely never going back to law school. But right now I love being an escort. Which brings us to the next part of our program: getting you psyched up for your debut as an escort."

Andrea swallowed hard. Joy laughed at her fearful expression.

"It's not really all that different from a regular date, except there's more on the line than whether he's going to ask you out for Saturday. You need to make everything seem perfect, especially him. Everything he says is fascinating, every joke he tells is hilarious, whatever he wants to talk about is the most important thing on Earth."

In spite of herself, Andrea chuckled.

"You're right, it's not all that different from a regular date."

Joy gave her a serious look.

"Except remember what I said about there being more at stake. I heard your boss talking about this Mr. Huo being important to your company. Well, he's pretty damn important to my agency, too. Sunwukong reps spend a bundle with us. So this can't be a bad date for him, not even a mediocre one. Your company is paying for this to be the best night of Mr. Huo's year. And you know what it takes for a guy to consider it a really good date, don't you?"

Joy looked at her expectantly. Andrea bit her lip.

"But . . . I'm not going to have to, er, have sex with him, of course . . . ?"

Joy gave Andrea a pitying look and sighed.

"Look, they'll always tell you that of course escorts don't automatically have sex with their clients, and at some agencies they make a thing of saying it's against their policy, and sometimes the girls do it but they're getting paid extra on the side, but your boss paid my agency four hundred dollars for the evening. Do you really think a guy pays that much for the privilege of buying a girl dinner?"

Andrea looked at the wall for a long moment. Finally Joy reached out and took her hand.

"Have you ever had sex with a man when you didn't really want to?"

"Yes."

Joy gave her hand a squeeze.

"Congratulations. You're now qualified to work as an escort."

Feeling very much unqualified, Andrea looked toward her office door, then balked. She got her raincoat from the closet and wrapped herself very tightly in it.

Joy looked at the coat, frowning.

"Wear that down to the car if you want, but don't let Mr. Huo see you in it."

"Er, yes, I suppose not."

Andrea shook herself , brushed back her hair and put on a smile.

"Okay. Guess I'm ready, then."

Joy pulled her own coat on over her semi-nude body.

"Oh, one more thing, Andi. Be sure to give it a good wash before anything else. It really does make a difference."

Andrea wilted inside, but said nothing. She was grateful to see that only Dick was still in the JCN suite.

"Okay," Dick said, "the limo is downstairs. You'll pick up Mr. Huo at the Sheraton-in-the-Park and take him to the restaurant - it's some kind of ethnic place in Leichardt. Patty will be waiting for the two of you there."

"Ah-ah, Ms. Foster will be there," Joy said brightly.

Dick glared at her, but Andrea raised a hand.

"She has a point. The woman at the restaurant has to be Ms. Foster, and nobody else, for as long as this . . . scam of ours is running. And I've got to be Ms. Lee."

"Just tell him you're Joy," the escort corrected. "But you should call him Mr. Huo, or Sir, to start with, and find out what he wants to be called."

Andrea nodded. She'd have to be careful, while playing out this imposture, not to treat Mr. Huo or Patty as peers. They were business people; she was just hired help, more on a par with the limo driver or the waiters at the restaurant.

She was grateful that the driver was not one who was known to her. The fewer people she had to explain things to, the better. Fastening her seat belt, she gasped in shock - her skirt had ridden up to completely expose her vulva, with its thatch of blazing red hair, much brighter than her head hair. She tugged the skirt down frantically, hoping the driver hadn't noticed. Getting out at the hotel, she felt very vulnerable indeed. Walking through the lobby, she felt as though all eyes were on her. What did they think she was - a girlfriend, an escort, even a call girl? She wanted to run, but knew that would only attract more attention. Worse yet, it might make her breasts slip out of their inadequate cups, or cause the skirt to ride up.

Asking for Mr. Huo at the desk, she cringed inwardly, praying that someone had called ahead. The thought of the desk clerk ordering her off the premises, taking her for a whore, made her tremble with anticipatory humiliation. She relaxed momentarily when the clerk told her to go on up, then felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach tighten even further.

Once he saw her as "Joy from Selina's Perfect Evenings", she would be committed to that role. It occurred to her for the first time that she could never meet with him, ever, as Andrea Foster. How would they manage that, if JCN did get the contract?

Too late for that now, though. The elevator opened on Mr. Huo's floor, and an arrow pointed towards his suite.

Showtime, she thought to herself.

She was met at the door by a Chinese woman almost as beautiful as Joy, who led her to a couch and offered to bring her a drink.

Alcohol sounded like an awfully good idea right then. Andrea decided she could allow herself two stiff drinks for the evening, and saw no reason not to start before she had to meet Mr. Huo. The couch turned out to be the more problematic offer, but she found that if she tugged her skirt down carefully as she sat and kept her knees together, she could sit without exposing herself.

Mr. Huo came into the room just as Andrea was finishing her drink. She popped a breath mint in her mouth and rose carefully to her feet, smoothing down the hem of her dress with as casual an air as she could manage. Smiling, she extended her hand.

Huo Menbiao was quite tall for a Chinese man, lean and leathery, with thick silver hair. Andrea was relieved that he was not fat. His smile was pleasant, his teeth were yellow but even, his breath blessedly not noticable. Andrea noticed the way she was assessing him, very differently from the way she would normally size up someone met in the course of business. But of course, she was working in a different business this time.

Andrea exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Huo while she fought inwardly for self-control. She reminded herself that she still didn't know for sure that Mr. Huo would expect her to sleep with him. Anything was possible; he might even be impotent, at his age. Why borrow trouble?

Crossing the lobby a second time was even more humiliating. A woman in a short, clingy dress asking after a guest at the desk was suggestive; the same woman leaving on the arm of an elderly businessman was blatant. Everyone who saw them together would presume they knew just what she was. Perhaps they were right.

At the restaurant, a small but nice-looking place called Otuken, Andrea felt another moment of panic. What if someone she knew recognized her? A friend might say the wrong thing before Andrea could ditch them, and expose the JCN executives' crazy scheme.

Andrea was relieved when the hostess led them to a private dining room, but then she saw that there were only cushions, no chairs, and the floor was spread with a huge white cloth - there wasn't even a low table, as there would be in the old Japanese style. How was she supposed to sit there and not flash her twat at Patty and whoever else was at dinner?

Worse yet, "whoever else" turned out to be Ben and Gim, plus Dan, the freelance programmer who was Patty's boyfriend. It had been bad enough that her designers were going to know what she had done, but she'd hoped that they at least wouldn't see her dressed like this, perched demurely at Mr. Huo's elbow.

It was a cozy little dinner party: Mr. Huo with "Miss Joy", Dan with "Ms. Foster", Ben and Gim with a couple of giggly young interns. Andrea's male subordinates were clearly enjoying the sight of their boss humbling herself for the company's sake, and Dan was clearly regarding this as payback for a run-in she'd had with him over promises he'd made to customers. Andrea had no choice but to sit there, attentive and decorative, while Patty was introduced to Mr. Huo as Andrea Foster and they proceeded through an exquisite dinner.

Mr. Huo was actually quite charming in his way. He explained that the restaurant was Uighur, and that he had acquired a taste for Uighur cooking while doing development deals in the Uighur Autonomous Region. It was good food: mutton and chicken kebabs, crunchy flatbread, noodles and dumplings. In spite of herself, Andrea found herself enjoying the meal.

After the waitress had cleared away the plates and the cloth, Patty pulled out Andrea's laptop and delivered Andrea's presentation: Sunwukong would adopt JCN's Joe-2 motherboard for its new automobile navigation system, and build a plant to manufacture them in the Uighur territory, taking advantage of their lax environmental and labor regulations, and JCN's existing relationship with the local authorities. Andrea had to admit that she did a good job.

The presentation received warm praise but no hint of a decision from Mr. Huo. Handshakes all around, and then the limo was waiting to take Mr. Huo and his companion back to the Sheraton-in-the-Park

The sun was bright and warm, the sky disgustingly beautiful, as Andrea shuffled from the doors of the Sheraton to her waiting cab. Why couldn't it have the decency to be as gray and miserable as she felt?

As humiliating as the evening at the restaurant had been, what followed had been worse. The old bastard had bragged about his medicinal cocktail: Viagra and Cialis, crushed to make them hit faster. Tiger gall, extracted from E. coli spliced with tiger genes. All poured into a little cup of canned pick-me-up that contained 300 milligrams of caffeine and 50 of methamphetamine. Why couldn't the son of a bitch have had a heart attack, tossing down a witch's brew like that?

He'd had her in every position she'd ever heard of, with some nasty little fetishes thrown in, literally for hours. He'd left her sore the next morning, which no other man ever had, even that well-hung marathon runner. He'd also left her feeling unspeakably used.

The fact that she'd climaxed three times didn't do wonders for her self-respect, either.

And now, back in that damn dress (which seemed to have gotten smaller during the night), she was taking the Walk of Shame like a hung-over college girl heading back to her dormitory. At least she'd thought to bring enough cash for a cab ride.

A shower at home, orange juice and naproxen, a clean suit (trousers never felt so good), and she was ready to go in to the office. She made it by 10:20, and thought she could be excused the lateness.

She felt better by the time she arrived at JCN. In her suit, and daytime makeup, she looked like the resourceful professional who had saved the company, and she'd convinced herself that that was how she'd be treated.

Unfortunately, the first person she met was Gim, who looked her up and down, smirking.

"You're looking quite well this morning, Andi. All recovered after taking one for the team?"

Andrea was too shocked to reprimand him properly. She simply brushed past him and headed for her office. Along the way, she passed a group of people talking. One of them was the intern who had sat beside Ben. The whole group fell silent as she passed, and made little effort to hide the fact that they were staring at her.

She found her laptop on her desk, her suit on a hanger on the coat rack. She checked the laptop's files and everything seemed to be in order. A new file on the desktop proved to be a memo from Patty, with some notes and suggestions about the contract. That presumption annoyed Andrea - Patty appeared to be enjoying the role of "Ms. Foster" entirely too much.

This suspicion was strengthened when she saw Patty herself, wearing a suit for the first time since she'd hired her. At least it was Patty's own suit this time; she'd invested in something from Liz Jordan.

They went to work without speaking directly about what had happened the night before, but the tension between them was palpable. Patty was definitely more confident in herself, quicker to offer her opinion. Andrea had to admit that the younger woman knew information technology better than Andrea had supposed.

The week passed slowly, and not easily. If Patty were more assertive, Ben and Gim were positively insubordinate. They seemed to have lost all respect for her, and she couldn't seem to find a handle to get them back under control.

On Friday, Alex came to her office, giving her a smile that looked just a bit forced.

"There's big news, Andi. Huo just called, Sunwukong's sold on your proposal, and he's flying out to sign the contracts on Monday."

He swallowed.

"He also wants us to get him the same girl as last time."

Andrea looked at him, aghast, and started to angrily refuse. Then she sat back heavily and sighed.

"All right. But this can't go on forever."

Andrea called the agency and arranged with Joy to meet on Saturday for dinner, more advice and instruction, and moral support. That, at least, was something good coming out of the situation: Andrea quite liked Joy, and enjoyed the excuse to see her again.

Joy and Andrea wound up talking late into the night, until they were very tired and very drunk. Joy slept over, and on Sunday they went shopping and bought Andrea a dress suitable for seeing Mr. Huo.

Andrea hoped that at least she could keep her second night as an escort quieter than her first, but when she left the office at 4:30 on Monday, she ran into Gim, who gave her a despicable grin.

"Leaving early to get ready for your big date?" he said loudly, alerting others nearby. To her fleeing back he called, "Looks like you've finally found your true calling!"

Once again it was dinner with Mr. Huo, and then back to his hotel for long hours of hard use. This time, she was so worn out that she slept through Mr. Huo's getting up and going out, and didn't wake up until the cleaning cart arrived. Huo had checked out and the hotel needed the room, so she was forced to dress hastily under the eyes of the chambermaid and then flee. By the time she got home, it was after one, so she didn't bother to go in to work at all. On Wednesday morning, she found everything in order, much to her relief - and somewhat to her disappointment. Patty was wearing a new suit, she noticed, a much better one.

On Friday, Dick flagged Andrea down in the hall.

"Andi? We've come up against a new problem with Ms. Foster," he said, leading the way to his office.

They had fallen into the habit of calling Patty "Ms. Foster" in connection with Sunwukong executives, as a way of distinguishing her from Andrea, and from Patty the secretary.

"Sunwukong wants Ms. Foster to go to Uighur-land to oversee the setting up of the first plant."

"But … she's just a secretary!"

"Not any more, she isn't – she's proved herself capable of doing the job."

Her job.

"What! She's made what, one presentation, in my clothes for goodness sake, and had lunch with Huo a couple of times! I'm the one who's done all the real IT work!"

"She's also handled some very tricky requests from the client over the phone."

"Over the phone…?"

"Oh, you might not even know about that business on Tuesday. I'm afraid Andi – I mean, Patty – handled it all by herself."

Andrea gaped at him, horrified.

"You're putting my calls through to her?"

He shook his head, then fixed her with a firm glance.

"The company needs to speak with one voice. Andrea Foster needs to speak with one voice."

"And she's Andrea Foster to Mr. Huo," she said helplessly.

"Exactly. So, we need to get her a passport in that name, and other papers. Legally, she can use any name so long as it's done without intent to commit fraud, but it gets a little sticky since there are two Andrea Fosters here. We don't want Sunwukong to know that if we can avoid it, or else this whole setup with you and the escort service is liable to come out, and embarrass all of us."

"Yes, we'd all be pretty embarrassed, wouldn't we," Andrea observed dryly.

The next day, a Sunwukong rep visited the office. Andrea stayed home, allowing Patty to be Ms. Foster for him. In the afternoon, she got a call from Joy: the rep had asked the agency for "Miss Joy, the girl Mr. Huo had recommended." Andrea agreed to see him, almost grateful for the chance to make herself useful in some fashion.

It proved to be an educational experience: young Mr. Xiang introduced her to bondage, in addition to sharing Huo's fondness for anal sex.

He also took surprising pleasure in pinching the soft flesh of her belly. The next morning, she used her gym membership for the first time in a week, and spent over an hour on the ab machine.

She also visited the offices of Selina's Perfect Evenings, at the owner's insistence. There was to be no more of this awkward business of Andrea's impersonating Joy Lee; instead, she would be hired by the service as an occasional employee, under the name "Andi Joy", and be paid for her work the same as any of the other girls.

Mr. Huo seemed to be staying in Sydney indefinitely, carrying out Sunwukong business of one kind or another. It was all too likely that he or one of his people would be calling for "Miss Joy" again.

Filling out the paperwork, Andrea concealed all outward signs of a vague unease and an odd excitement, but she burst out laughing when she saw that her official job title was to be "substitute".

Two days later, Andrea was at her desk, ignoring the program she was supposed to be debugging, looking over her finances on her PDA. The problem hadn't gone away on its own. She was still short nearly five hundred dollars for the month. Her check from JCN had been late, and short, as usual, and the next one promised to be even more so in both those dimensions. She was no longer struggling; she was officially strapped.

Her cell phone rang. She recognized Joy's number.

"Joy?"

"Andi, listen, I'm in a difficult situation. My father's wife is sick and Dad's going to pieces. He really needs someone to look after him overnight, but I have a client tonight - can you cover for me?"

Andrea had a hard time at first understanding Joy's words, simple as they were.

"You want me to - this client, he's not one of Mr. Huo's people?"

"Huh-uh. I haven't seen him before, but he's a regular with Selina's, so I know he's okay."

"No, I mean . . . ."

What did she mean? Joy was asking her to play the role of a girl from the escort service, just as Andrea had done a number of times before. But this time, not as a desperate measure to save the company (and Andrea's own assets), but simply as a favor for a friend. As though this really were Andrea's normal line of work.

It wasn't, of course, but still, Joy was a friend, she'd helped Andrea prepare herself for that first time, given her reassurances afterward, and had later given her more systematic and in-depth instruction in how to pass herself off as a professional escort.

Joy was a good friend, and she was clearly in a serious jam. Maybe . . . .

"It'll pay the usual rate, and this guy is a good tipper."

That meant four hundred dollars, maybe more, and it would come in faster than money from JCN. In her current situation, she needed that money.

"Tell me about this client. Does he have a file at Selina's?

As the elevator rose, Andrea checked herself in its mirror-surfaced door. She hadn't paid much attention to makeup since high school, but lately she'd been taking a lot more care with it. For "Miss Joy", it was a tool of the trade and would reward diligence. And if she was going to take time over her makeup for that false identity, it seemed inappropriate to take less care with her own, worn under her own name.

She looked just fine, she concluded as the elevator doors opened. Laptop over her shoulder, she marched confidently down the corridor to the JCN offices and walked straight into pandemonium.

People were shouting in the foyer. Loud arguments were taking place in back offices. Ephraim Helder, the CFO, had pulled a drawer from some filing cabinet and was spreading papers from it across the reception desk. Dick was screaming into his cell phone, while he pounded his forehead with his free hand and kicked the wall repeatedly with one foot.

For once, Alex seemed almost as wild as Dick, but she had to ask somebody what was going on. She grabbed his arm as he rooted through papers alongside Ephraim and forced him to notice her. He stared for a long moment before speaking.

"You've got a fat nerve showing up here, after you and your doppelganger looted the fucking company."

"What? Alex, what're you talking about, what's going on?"

"What's going on? First, Ms. Foster the fucking Second sells the patents to the Joe-2 to the Chinamen, hides the whole thing from us, puts the money in company accounts and then you come along and clean them out!"

"My God. She sold the Joe-2?"

"How nice for the yellow bastards. They get the motherboards, they get the factory in fucking Uighur-vania, and they don't have to pay us a fucking thing beyond the pittance they paid for the patents, and we don't even get that! You've got it!"

Andrea stared, aghast.

"No wonder the bastards have a seat on their board for Ms. Andrea Fucking Foster!" Alex shrieked, shaking a finger in her face.

"But that wasn't me, it was Patty!''

"Oh, it was, was it? And you gave her the codes for the company accounts?"

"No! I had them encrypted!"

Light dawned.

"Dan, it must have been Dan! He's an old hacker, he must have decrypted the codes."

"And can you prove that?"

Andrea stared at him helplessly.

He looked away from her and said, "Get out. There's no Andrea Foster who's welcome here anymore."

Andrea fled from the shrieking chaos at JCN. It was so frantic there that nobody seemed to have even noticed her presence. As the door was closing behind her, she heard Dick scream "There she is!", which inspired her to run to the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.

Out on the street, she tried to think what to do next. After taking a blow like that one, JCN was sure to go down, and even if the staff kept quiet about the whole charade of substitution, there would be indictments handed down against Ms. Andrea Foster.

She needed to talk with someone, preferably without having to explain the whole sordid business of the two Andrea Fosters. But aside from the officers of JCN, that left only . . . .

Joy's fingertips slid lightly along Andrea's shoulders, then suddenly sank deep into a tight, knotted spot in the middle of each. The fingertips felt like an acupuncturist's needles, painful but liberating. Joy held them there for a long moment, then moved her hands, her right on Andrea's left shoulder, her left going to the lower point of Andrea's left deltoid muscle. The two points seemed to be connected somehow, and Andrea felt the burden begin to lift from her. She took a sip from her glass of Yellow Tail and closed her eyes, savoring how the light of the dozen or so candles shone through her eyelids.

"Mmmmmm. What do you call that?"

"Jen Shen Dao. Also known as acupressure."

"Ancient Chinese folk medicine, right?"

"Yes, but actually I learned it at the YWCA."

Andrea took another sip of wine, then a swallow.

"So, whether there was one Andrea Foster or two, Andrea's reputation is ruined and there may be criminal charges. And what do I do now?"

Joy shifted her hands, working one pair of pressure points, then another, lingering patiently until the points had relaxed as much as they were going to.

"I think your best bet is to just let that name go, hon. I can help you get papers, good solid papers with records to back them up. You can start over as someone else, and if anyone has to take the fall for that mess, it can be Patty."

"But my degrees, my credentials, they're all Andrea Foster's. My job references, too. How would I make a living?"

Joy moved around to sit across the coffee table from Andrea. She moved two of the candles and invited Andrea to put her feet up. When she'd slipped off her sandals and put her feet on the tabletop, Joy lifted one foot, cupping the heel in her palm, and began kneading the sole with her other hand.

"Take a look at your last bank statement, hon. I think you'll find that almost half your income last month came from Selina's, and you were working a lot less than full-time."

Andrea looked up, eyes wide.

"You mean . . . go on seeing Mr. Huo and the others? Just . . . be an, an escort for real, full-time?"

"Why not? You already know the job, and you know you're good at it."

She gave Andrea's foot a squeeze.

"And you've got a friend in the business."

Andi checked her messages and her e-mail, then shut down her laptop. She had two hours to have supper, shower, change and get downtown to her assignment for the evening.

She worked for Selina's full-time now. And she was Andi Joy full-time, also. Her birth certificate, passport and other documents, carefully prepared by Joy's mysterious "friends", ensured that her new identity was solid and secure.

Andi and Joy shared an apartment, and Andi suspected it was just a matter of time until they were sharing a bed. She was still reluctant to cross that line, but Joy was such an awfully good friend, and she was there every night, and Andi had already done so many things she would never have believed she could ever do.

Andi Joy was very popular. Mister Huo was a regular, every Friday night, and sometimes on other nights. Various other Sunwukong executives also called for her often.

So did Ben and Gim. Her former subordinates loved having her at their beck and call, and thought four hundred dollars a night a reasonable price to pay for the privilege.

Joy had helped her refine her appearance for the job. Her hair was now a brighter red, exactly matching her pubic hair (there was something disturbing but appropriate in the symbolism of that). Her glasses had been replaced by contact lenses that turned her eyes a brighter green. She'd kept up at the gym, working out five days a week at Joy's urging, and when her membership expired, she switched to a less expensive gym. She'd gotten the implants Joy had suggested on the night they met. Later she'd gone back for bigger ones, and was now a D-cup.

Things had changed for other people, too. Mr. Huo now lived full time in Sydney, head of the new Australian division of Sunwukong. JCN had indeed gone under, and its staff had scattered to the winds, but Ben and Gim were still working together, hired by Mr. Huo. Dick was now a manager at Aspect Computing, and Dan, suddenly dumped by Patty, was working in security for Ferntree Systems.

As for Patty, nobody was quite sure. "Ms. Andrea Foster" had simply disappeared. Nobody seemed to know what had become of her, but there were some interesting possibilities. She might have decided that the name Foster carried too many risks, and persuaded Sunwukong to buy her yet another new identity. She might have seen the opportunity for some new scam, and created a new persona for the occasion. She might have fallen afoul of the criminal gangs who ran so much of the Uighur Autonomous Region. It was easy to offend a Uighur, after all. They believed they were the world's original race, older than all the others, and their ethnic pride was something inconceivable.

There were even nomads still roaming in Uighur territory, who were said to prize blonde women. On bad nights when sleep was slow to come, Andrea would sometimes console herself in imagining an interesting fate for Patty.

Tonight was what the agency called a "hostess" assignment. That was a polite way of saying she would be entertaining more than one client. A single-client escort was paid four hundred dollars, while a hostess was paid eight hundred, for as many as six clients in a party. Some of the girls refused to take hostess jobs, or limited them to three clients at a time, but Andi actually preferred them. It meant twice the pay for the night, and most likely tips from each of the clients, but there was another reason for Andi to like them.

Since becoming an escort she'd discovered many things about herself that she'd never suspected, not the least of them being just how much she loved the male organ. There was nothing she liked so much as having a large, firm one inside her, or better yet two. On all fours, with one entering from behind and another in her mouth, the sliding flesh occupied her entire awareness and she could completely ignore the whining, selfish, demanding creatures at the other end.

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