Renew-U

by SlutWriter

Summary:

The tale of Jackson Calvard, a horny, womanizing young CEO who treats women like dirt - including his personal secretary Lucille, and the head of R & D, Shannon. Not caring that his his constant sexual harassment endangers the company, he butts heads with his older, more traditional grandfather, the ex-CEO.

But! When a major breakthrough at the company reveals the secrets to non-surgical gender changing formulas, Jackson has the tables turned on him when he wakes up as the big-titted, phat-assed bombshell Jackie... and is subject to all the same sort of sexually-harassing behavior he once perpetrated!

Notes:

This story is a commission.

“Lucille, bring me those quarterly earnings reports in a hard copy before you go to lunch. I need something to wave around at the two-o’clock meeting.”

Whap.

The ‘whap’ was not the sound of Jackson Calvard’s laptop closing, or his earpiece being put down on the table. It was the sound of his hand connecting with the shapely rear end of his executive secretary Lucille, who was not in his outer office but rather standing directly beside his desk, her hourglass figure poured into a champagne-colored mini-dress. It was garb more suitable for dinner, or clubbing… but Lucille, who had a degree in Business Economics from the Ivy League, wore the dress at Jackson’s request.

The boy wonder was, after all, the boss. And a genius, according to Time magazine. 

“Yes, Mr. Calvard.” She bit her lip and resisted the urge to admonish him. Admonishing Jackson would be, she knew, a quick way to being fired and having her reputation ruined. Though the CEO of Renew Medical Technologies was one of the youngest executive leaders in America at just 21 years old, those tender years didn’t come with a tender side. Rather, they came with a horny cavalier attitude and a brat’s mean streak.

Lucille, perhaps because of her flawless body and round bubble ass, was the longest-surviving of Jackson’s secretaries. She’d had the position for nearly fourteen months, long enough to see how the sausage was made at RMT. Sometimes literally, considering the company’s advances in non-surgical bolstering options for lips, buttocks, breasts… and yes, even penises. It was an exploding market that had previously been filled with quackery, but now it was coming into the mainstream in the early 2040’s, and the handsome, brown-haired Jackson Calvard was the face of it. A hot-shot young billionaire - yes, billionaire - who could look directly into the camera and say, with conviction, that his success and popularity with sexual partners was a result of using RMT products.

Lucille and many others might have added ‘rich and pushy’ to his descriptors. But she didn’t dare say that, except in whispers to the other women around corporate HQ, and even then, only to those she could absolutely trust. They had all heard the stories; they had even formed an impromptu club with a rather ominous name - the Survivors of Jackson Calvard. There were figures and patterns that were just as compelling as the line items in the quarterly earnings reports that Mr. Calvard had told Lucille to fetch.

There were roughly thirty women in high-ranking positions at Renew Medical Technologies, and Jackson Calvard had slept with all of them. That was to say nothing of the huge numbers of women who had been fired or quit, either after sleeping with him (and then having him lose interest once his belt was notched) or refused his advances, and found their career prospects subtly frozen out. They would show frustration at one of his ass-slaps, or one of his indecent proposals - massages at the office were a common one, usually leading to handjobs or oral sex - and then suddenly they would get transferred. Or the project they were working on would get shelved. Or they would be demoted.

Almost never with a paper trail leading back to Jackson. But it wasn’t totally hidden, either, as if other women seeing and understanding the consequences was part of his nefarious plan. Lucille had seen Jackson work three layers deep in business; she could only imagine how devious he might get when it came to affairs of the heart. Or the cock.

And Jackson Calvard definitely had a big cock. Almost unfairly so. Lucille had seen it many times; usually as perversity couched in the trappings of super-genius. Sometimes, she would be called in late at night to assist, and find Jackson in his massive glass-walled office, totally naked, staring out into the lights of the city with his crossfit-sculpted ass facing inward and his long, heavy cock facing the world at large. Nakedness, he’d explain, helped him think. Helped him come up with ‘new business strategies’. And by the way, Lucille, have you ever tried it? Why don’t you strip down as well, and we can strategize together?

Yes, she had done it. And she had slept with him too. She had taken every inch of that big penis - clocking in at nearly ten inches - with the same determination and resolve that had taken her to the top of the corporate structure. Lucille, like the rest of them, realized she had no other choice. She had worked hard at Renew, rising through the ranks of the secretarial pool and piling up stock options and benefits, long before Jackson’s father died of coronary disease and the son took over, rocketing earnings into the stratosphere. Indulging Jackson was just an act of self-preservation.

That had been what she told herself. She was a classic blonde with a classic name, brought into the 2040’s by a more modern and daring haircut - a side-shave with the long blonde remainder pulled back tight and trailing to her mid-back. Her earring doubled as a personal computer and smartphone speaker. She wore red blouses, red pumps, red chokers. Red lipstick. All Jackson’s favorites. Her eyes had once been brown, now they were blue - all thanks to RenewU Aesthetic Eye treatments. Jackson had convinced her to make the change, swearing up and down that she could be the spokeswoman for the new product, but Lucille never truly believed him.

The look of lust in his eye when he stroked his long, fat penis above her waiting face… the truth could only be that he enjoyed giving sperm facials to blue-eyed blondes rather than brown. Sometimes, after cumming, Jackson would get philosophical, and make her stand with his sperm on her beautiful face, explaining himself.

“It makes a man feel powerful,” he’d once told her, as his thick ropes of semen were drying on her skin. “That’s the mission statement of this company. My father couldn’t see that. But we’re giving people agency . We’re giving men agency… and we’re giving women agency to look exactly how they need to, to please whatever man they want.”

Who could argue with him? The value of Lucille’s stock dividends had certainly gone up with the flood of RenewU products, and the associated line of male and female grooming equipment. The launch of RenewTrans, the first government-approved, no prescription hormonal treatment for body affirmation, was already receiving rave reviews. So yes, her bank account had increased, even as her self-esteem dropped.

“Lucille? The hard copy.”

“Yes sir.” She had been lost in thought for a moment, thinking about the slap he’d just laid on her ass. He’d done it as casually as could be. There, in that small moment, she despised him. He got away with so much because he was handsome and rich. Jackson Calvard had been blessed with influence, money, looks and cock size; he wielded them all like a cudgel, beating down anyone who stood in his way. Lucille had seen so many women - visiting executives, even - put up with behavior that was outrageous, simply because of the young man’s devilish smile and charm. He brushed his cock against their asses, told sexist and perverse jokes, explained their RenewU product lines in terms of the ‘sluts’ and ‘whores’ who would buy them… and was he ever punished for it? No. They laughed at his bombast and his nerve. An uglier man, a poorer man, or a man of less influence would have been fired at the least, and likely in jail.

She began to walk away from his expensive desk, which stood monolithic and enormous in the center of the office. It had a marble top that matched the expensive floor tiles. Before getting more than a few steps, Lucille felt a hand on her wrist… and cried out in surprise. She looked down to see that Jackson was sitting on the edge of his desk, his smart business suit buttoned crisply, his shoes shining, his hair slicked back. Wordlessly, not releasing his grip, he moved her palm to the crotch of his slacks.

“Maybe you can fetch the information later,” Jackson said. “Right now… I need someone to… bounce ideas off of.” And he gave that infuriating, teflon grin. Aren’t I funny? Because when I say ‘bounce ideas off of’, I mean my balls. And they’ll be bouncing off of your ass, which is the only reason I hired you. I don’t even know what school you graduated from or what your degree is. Just make sure my coffee is warm, Lucille.

She felt his pants throb beneath her palm. There was a bulge beneath the buttons of his finely-tailored pants. Big and fat and coiled up like a sausage. God, it was long! Especially since Jackson was, for all his energy and fitness and good looks, relatively short. About five foot nine, or one inch taller than her. But that hadn’t exactly hurt his chances. Plenty of movie stars were short. And the result of Jackson’s size was that his cock looked even bigger relative to his body - which was ripped at 9% body fat. 

“I’m sorry sir - I had plans for lunch.” It was a lie, and one she instantly regretted. Normally she was able to put up with his flirting, his outright sexual advances, his lewd acts. Often she could steer him away if she wanted. This time, in her haste, she’d chosen the wrong excuse. The sad fact was that her plans didn’t matter; if he was working through lunch, she, as his secretary, was expected to work through it as well, plans be damned.

“Oh yeah?” he teased her, not releasing her hand. “With who?” His chestnut eyes gleamed and one lock of his hair fell down over his forehead. Lucille hated that lock of hair, he was always sweeping it back into place. “Is it hubby-to-be? I keep telling you, you should be with someone who treats you better, Lu. Who can give you all the things a… woman of your stature… deserves.”

Yes, she was planning to get married. The unkindest cut of all, considering the situation - for she knew that if she did get married, and rebuffed Jackson completely, she would instantly be demoted to the mail room, or some other demeaning job. To Jackson Calvard, the greatest sin a woman could commit was to be inaccessible . Hell, he’d made it RenewU’s entire mission statement. One could tell from the taglines of their commercials:

RenewU. Always Beautiful.

RenewU. Beautiful In Seconds.

The things sounded aspirational, if a little vain. One of the most famous RenewU commercials - the one that had recently played at the Super Bowl - featured a woman receiving a ‘u awake?’ text and showing up at her boyfriend’s house, ready to fuck, before his popcorn was even out of the microwave - the message being, of course, that RenewU products made beauty fast and effortless, quick enough for the quickest of booty calls.

That was Jackson. No patience for downtime, putting makeup on, or any circumstance in which a woman wasn’t instantly down to fuck. There was, of course, no RenewU product that could erase a boyfriend, that old and reliable impediment to fucking any woman you want, but Lucille had no doubt that if it was possible, Jackson would have R & D research it. As it was, her boss had to content himself with making inappropriate and needling remarks about her relationship.

“Well,” Jackson went on. “I guess we’ll have to work through lunch. Why don’t you give Mr. Right a call and give him the bad news?” He grinned a predatory grin. She hesitated. He leaned forward and pressed her palm against his cock even harder, making her feel the throbbing, hardening shape of it. “Unless… you’re refusing to work through lunch.”

“N-no sir.” Lucille suddenly felt very vulnerable. She couldn’t refuse, but she was terrified of exposing her boyfriend, Bill, to Jackson. Bill wasn’t a business-minded sort; he was a bartender and restorer of antique cars. An older man, ten years her senior, straightforward but not boring. Jackson, on the other hand, was seven years younger than Lucille.

Still, unable to stall further, she pressed earring to her earlobe, the one that doubled as a phone. “Call Bill,” she said, and heard the phone start to ring. Before it could even repeat the chime twice, Jackson made his move, sliding from his position on the edge of his desk, moving behind her… and pressing his big cock bulge against the cheeks of her ass!

Lucille gasped. It was more forward than he’d been. His hand quested forward and found her belly, pulling her against him, and maneuvering toward the desk’s edge, bending her over it. Wind escaped her mouth as her breasts smooshed against the surface. Her dress, already inappropriate for the office, was being mussed by his manhandling. Her breasts felt ready to fall out, and her skirt was rising up over those big, almost hemispheric buttocks. Lucille, like most of the other women at high-ranking positions in Renew, was highly encouraged to work out religiously. She had an entire routine devoted just to squats, and as the red fabric of her dress was pulled up, it showed. She had a thong underneath, since Jackson had nagged her incessantly about ‘panty lines’. 

His hand slapped down on one of her ass-cheeks, mauling it, squeezing it, groping it, cupping it, spreading it lewdly. “I can’t help it,” Jackson laughed. “Our products are just too good. You should be the poster-girl for YouShape.”

YouShape, or, as it was known unofficially, “BBL in a can”, was one of the company’s most popular products. The first non-surgical, targeted solution for reshaping butts into the standard of beauty that had been evolving through the 21st century. It was an injectable cocktail of precisely targeted genetic treatments. Research had shown, after all, that having an amazing, bubbly ass was mostly genetics. There were women out there who could do squats until the cows came home, it would make no difference in the shape of their flat-as-a-board asses. YouShape had done away with that. And damn did the money roll in. Money for which Jackson took all the credit. That was why he was the golden boy… and why she had so little recourse against his outrageous behavior.

As it happened, Lucille was using a combination of all-natural genetic gifts and the YouShape protocol… so her ass was the best of both worlds. She had no doubt it was part of the reason that Jackson had hand-picked her as his secretary. And now, those chickens were coming home to roost, with the horny bastard bending her over his desk, all while-

“Hello?”

Bill’s voice.

“Bill! I can’t make lunch,” she said, quickly. She hoped that by sounding clipped and short, he’d get the message that she needed to get off the phone as quickly as possible. “An important meeting… got rescheduled.”

Jackson laughed at her obvious discomfort, and then, amazingly, pulled her panties down her legs. She heard the soft pop of buttons on his fly as he maneuvered his penis into place. Obviously, he planned to fuck her while she was on the phone with her fiancee!

“But we were going to try that new sushi place!” Bill’s voice buzzed in her ear. “Come on, Lu- you can’t weasel out of it? I’ve been dreaming about that fried roll with the shaved fennel sausage.”

She kept her voice as even as she could, with Jackson pulling her thong to over one round ass-cheek, making the string cut into her flesh, exposing her pussy. Seconds later she felt the fat knob of his oversized penis rubbing at her velvety slit. Yes, she liked big penises, and wouldn’t apologize for it. And Jackson had a big one. In the beginning, she’d even found something like pride, that she’d been chosen by such a successful, influential, and hung young CEO. That was before she realized that Jackson tried to fuck every female employee, every female acquaintance, probably every female he saw on a given day.

She pulled in a sharp breath as his cocktip rubbed, making her labia polish him. She wasn’t super-wet, but she wasn’t totally dry, either. As soon as the slap on the ass had happened, her body had responded accordingly, figuring sex was imminent. 

“Lu, are you okay? You sound out of breath.” 

“Yeah. Just… running around for the boss,” she assured him.

“Jackson? I swear, Lu - that megalomaniac should learn to handle his own shit.” Lucille bit her lip and stifled a groan as that thick, fat, cum-leaking pole burrowed into her cunt and started to fuck. It was so thick! Only barely did she manage to hide her frustrated moan from Bill.

“Bill,” she breathed. “I really have to go.” She hoped she sounded like a harried secretary running for the elevator. She hoped she sounded like she was staring at the broken heel of a shoe, at the foot of a stairwell. She hoped she sounded like anything but a woman getting fucked by a fat cock. How dare he? How dare he?

“Of course,” Bill said, mercifully. “Call me when you get free. We’ll reschedule. Maybe dinner?”

“Sure.” She blew a labored kiss.

“Love you,” he said.

“Love you too.”

And with that, the call was over. Jackson shoved her roughly forward until her cheek was against the desk. The feeling of fucking her when she was on the phone with her boyfriend had clearly aroused him, he felt enormous inside her. “Yeah, you like that,” he breathed, palming her head and her expensive, fancy shock of blonde hair. “You fucking love it, don’t you?”

She said nothing. She had never precisely told him ‘no’, even when he’d been his most inappropriate, and that continued with this encounter. Lucille knew what would happen if she explicitly shut him down. He would stop - that would be the good part, and he would say that the entire thing had been a misunderstanding, or ‘crossed signals’. He might even apologize, being the savvy creature that he was. But a week later, she’d find herself demoted. A week later, she’d be under performance review. And a week after that, she’d be fired. Probably for a trumped-up cause, with her benefits and stock options voided.

It had happened to others. Former secretaries, even former female executives.

His big penis felt good. She decided to shut her brain off and let his cock bring her to orgasm; it was easier than faking it and perhaps arousing his suspicion. She felt a pang of guilt, as she always did, and then consoled herself with the truth - that she had little choice. She groaned out, palms on the desk, and he groaned out with her. She did not thrust back against him - she would not give him that satisfaction - but she let herself get used. She let her bubble cheeks get clapped, until the small mole on the right side of her jiggly, hemispheric cheeks was moving in a blur.

He spanked her, laid his forearm on her neck, and then pulled out. “Fuck, this is all women are good for,” he seethed. “You fucking… dick sleeve!” Orgasm was the only time that Jackson’s public persona ever dropped, revealing how he truly felt. Lucille could feel his big, thick cum ropes shooting out over her ass. Four. Five. Six. God, he could shoot so much. His balls were big too. She had sucked them many times, complimented them at his request. Like most men, Jackson loved to have his penis praised, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

When it was done, she felt him wipe his cocktip on her ass… and then pull her dress back down and over it. I own you , the action said. Thanks for the ass. Thanks for bending over and getting fucked like the whore you are. Now, how about those quarterly earnings reports? Stop by the copy room, you can use the extra paper to wipe the cum off of your big, round bubble-butt.

“Sorry,” Jackson offered, refastening the buttons of his fly. “I get carried away sometimes, you know that.”

“Of course, sir.” She was already arranging her clothes so it looked like nothing had happened.

“That’s the essence of RenewU, you know? Any time, any place.” Now he was putting out the company line, justifying it to himself. He paused, then put a hand on her hip. “Come on… admit it. You were turned on, talking to your boy-toy while I fucked you.”

She said nothing. He smiled and winked. “Can’t say it out loud yet? Okay, fair enough.” He shot her with a finger-gun, as if to say: Those of us who lie to ourselves on a regular basis, we know how it is. “But you’re still my finest piece of office ass.”

It was supposed to be a joke, outrageous and vulgar. She forced a smile.

“You still liking that Mercedes?” A reminder of the car she’d recently bought, a brand new 204X in silver, with full self-drive and office mode. There was a waiting list; hers was one of only a thousand prototypes. Jackson had pulled some strings for her. And he was now reminding her of that, that such a car was beyond the salary of most secretaries, and wasn’t she lucky to be working at Renew? Sure, there were bawdy jokes and locker room humor sometimes. (And sexual harassment. And sexual blackmail that wouldn’t be considered consensual by anyone with a shred of empathy.) But it was all worth it, wasn’t it? For the money, and the car?

No sir.

“Yes sir,” she replied. A few locks of Lucille’s hair were out of place, she fixed them wordlessly, drew herself up to her full height, and began to walk toward the door. Today, her boss had gone further than he ever had before. Had taken more liberties than before. As she passed into the outer office and moved to her own desk, Lucille’s expression went from neutral to one of shame and fury.

She knew that she was not entirely blameless for her predicament. Ambition had blinded her at first; and the full extent of what she’d have to endure had become apparent only gradually, and by degrees. But the one who was most to blame was back where she’d come from - the big, glass-walled office that sat at the pinnacle of the Renew Medical Technologies corporate HQ.

Jackson Calvard.

The young CEO was absolutely, positively out of control, and someone would have to do something about it, before Renew - the entire company - imploded in a wave of scandals.

 

---

 

There were more scandals than even Lucille knew, more skeletons in the closet than she could conceive of. Jackson knew this. He knew where all the bodies were buried, and in most cases, didn’t care. And as he watched his secretary walk out of the room with her ass covered in his cum, the idea of a sexual harassment complaint didn’t even enter his mind.

Women were there to be taken. Women, despite statements to the contrary, wanted to be taken. And of course Jackson didn’t speak of forcible rape or any such act - that was the barbarian’s approach to the idea. No, he only meant that women wanted to be beautiful. They desired more than anything to gain the attention of desirable men. Desirable in looks, in status, in money. 

It was, Jackson knew, human nature. He was human, and considered himself the template of a modern man, only with the knobs turned all the way up to eleven and pulled off. He worked hard, he fucked hard, and when he wanted something, he took it. He had no patience for theories about the subtleties of female desire; women who wanted to look good and get fucked, they were the women who bought RenewU products by the millions.

Product success was all fueled by this philosophy. That woman fundamentally wanted to be taken, and would do anything to fit the mold. He hadn’t had just a few secretaries before Lucille. Lucille was merely the longest-lasting so far, a testament to her willingness to service his cock, and her capital-A Amazing ass. Before her, since taking the company over at the age of 21 from his ailing father, he’d had no fewer than thirty executive secretaries.

He even kept little notes and their employee pictures on his laptop, a ‘wall of memories’ that boiled them down to their essential elements, listing them from A-Z. A folder with notes and all of their employee ID photos. Employee ID photos were mandatory at Renew, for ‘security’, but the real reason was that Jackson liked to keep all of his beautiful female employees in a ‘Wall of Fame’, so he could lean back, smoke a cigar, and look at all the hot women he’d bedded.

Now, where did Lucille rank? S-Tier. Had to be. That ass. Those two round, thick globes that could be detected no matter how modest her clothing. Sculpted at the gym, augmented by the finest genetic resequencing that money could buy. Jackson smiled as he moved her photo to the top of the list. His mouse cursor was operated via eye movements; the latest toy for the rich and tech-savvy.

There came a knock at his office door. This was unusual, Lucille usually screened his visitors. But of course, she was away, fetching documents… and probably cleaning his big, thick cumshot off of her amazing ass. Let her hubby-to-be try to match that , Jackson thought, smiling wolfishly as he swiveled in his expensive leather chair. I own that ass .

The knock came again. “Open up, douche bag!” came a half-drunk, partygoer voice, and Jackson’s smile widened. There was only one person at Renew that would dare speak to him in such a manner - his friend and fellow tech-bro Charles Scotelli, aka. ‘Chip’. 

“Come in!” Jackson yelled, and Chip burst through the door. He had a too-dark tan and a dragon neck tattoo. He was wearing a tee-shirt beneath a gleaming, six-thousand-dollar suit jacket with fabric from the best mills in Italy. He had a golden chain around his neck with a pendant that featured his initials. He was wearing alligator loafers with no socks.

“‘Sup, fucker?” Chip cried, and approached the desk. His hair was a platinum dye-job, his eyes, once a muddy brown, were now bright blue. He offered his fist and Jackson bumped it. “I just passed Lucille in the hall. Man… what a piece of ass!” He bit his lip as if imagining the many immoral and possibly illegal things he’d do to her. “You get all the good ones, Jack.”

Chip, really, was very much like Jackson, but with less subtlety and cleverness and 300% more of what would come to be known as “pure Chip”. Like Jackson, he was a lewd-comment maker and an ass-grabber. Unlike Jackson, he’d tended to do those things in public, and had cultivated a reputation as a total sleaze. But he was Jackson’s friend from high school; both of them had rich daddies, and they bonded over the sports cars they wanted to buy and the women they wanted to fuck. When Renew hit on revolutionary body-affirming technologies and grew 10000% in one year, Jackson was rocketed to the top… and he took Chip along for the ride.

Porn Star had been Chip’s lifestyle brand, focusing on homeopathic dick pills and female skank-wear with a simple message: “Look like a porn star, fuck like a porn star.” He had niche success, and in his way, was so low to the ground and such a scuttling, opportunistic filth-merchant that he avoided most scrutiny for his outrageous ad campaigns and ridiculous statements on social media. (Once, Chip had stated that if Anne Frank were alive, she would have a boyfriend and she’d want that boyfriend to blow her back out like John Holmes.) He hooked up with the usual crowd of none-too-bright young adult social media stars and paid them to make the Porn Star brand look glamorous. 

The lawsuits and scandals were countless; Chip himself was the target of more than a half dozen sexual assault complains and more than one paternity suit. Screen grabs of him sexting a seventeen-year-old female streamer and telling her she could get a sponsorship if she would ‘gargle his balls’ went viral. There were plenty of hot young lifestyle influencers who took him up on the offer, and he would keep Jackson apprised of his conquests, usually by saying: “Dude, I get so much ass, it’s unreal.”

The two had banged strippers together, sometimes two at a time. And perhaps it was this closeness, and knowledge of where the bodies were buried, that had allowed Chip to latch on to Jackson. One of Jackson’s first acts as CEO had been to acquire Porn Star Lifestyle Brand LLC, turning all Porn Star stock into much more valuable RenewU stock… and increasing Chip’s net worth by close to one-hundred-twenty million dollars in one fell swoop.

Chip, stinking like booze and body spray, saw what Jackson was looking at on his computer and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Going through the fuckin’ bitch list, huh?”

“You know it.” Jackson smiled and leaned back in his chair as Chip sat on the edge of his desk. “Was Lucille walking crooked when you saw her? Because I just totally wrecked that ass.”

“My man!” Another fist bump. Chip looked at Lucille’s photo on the screen. Beautiful, dignified, emotionless. “You should have like some mark you put on the ones you’ve banged more than ten times. Like, a gold star or something. Or a big smear of jizz.” They laughed together. Chip started to scroll the screen, and then stopped at another woman - a beautiful one with long dark hair and perfect cheekbones. “Oh, shit! I remember that one. Josie. Remember when we double-teamed her while she was hammered?”

Jackson nodded. Chip went on. “She was all like… ‘I have a boyfriend… I have a boyfriend…” He viciously imitated her voice in slurring falsetto, mimicking how high she’d been on various drugs. “Bitch, once your panties drop, you’re fair game.” He shrugged. “Do you think he ever found out?”

“I remember you trying to tell her it wasn’t cheating if she just sucked our cocks,” Jackson chuckled. “That was pretty funny.” 

“Bitch couldn’t handle all our meat anyway!” Chip crowed, gesturing toward his crotch. He was, like Jackson, rather hung. They both knew of each others’ large endowment, having been in locker rooms and in sexual situations together, but they didn’t talk about it too much, lest the homoeroticism grow too strong. Still, each one of them was over nine inches, and that was something money couldn’t buy - at least, not yet. Renew Medical Technologies was working on it.

Another fist bump - big dick bros had to stick together after all - and then it was back to memory lane. “What happened to her, anyway?” Chip asked. “Did you shitcan her once her pussy wore out?”

Jackson shrugged. He didn’t know and didn’t care. He vaguely remembered something about a PR complaint, then a medical leave, and then… he’d kinda just forgotten about it. The good thing about women was they were easily replaceable. He had a product pitch he used when in exclusively male company: “We’re increasing the supply of fuckable broads.” With RenewU, a chick who had been a seven could be a nine. An eight could be a ten. And a ten, like Lucille, could reach untold levels of fuckability - to the extent that he could barely resist the urge to hike up her skirt and pound her tight, shaved twat every time he saw her.

They scrolled through the list for a good fifteen minutes, remembering who had the best dicksucker lips (definitely Ebony), the best ass (Lucille probably, but Mikaela was up there, if you liked someone with a bit more heft), the prettiest face (Kianna, that asian data analyst… it had been his pleasure to glue her dainty, graceful nostrils shut every morning!), and, of course, the biggest tits.

The anecdotes kept coming. They got into the personal fridge that Jackson kept by his desk, and for the next hour they drank and vaped and hooted like jackals. They even made a toast over glasses of fine liquor.

“Fuck bitches,” Chip said.

“Fuck bitches,” Jackson replied. They touched glasses. 

 

---

 

“Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit! Oh crap. Oooooh crap. Oooooooh crap crap fucking crap, holy shitballs !”

Shannon Riordan had always been shy; and even her swearing was muted. But that didn’t stop the words from flowing out of her lips as she cleaned her thick glasses with the hem of her lab coat. She nervously wiped her long, orange bangs from his eyes, momentarily revealing bright green lamps with long lashes, before the hair flopped back into place, obscuring them. She swallowed thickly. She slid her glasses back onto her narrow nose and pushed them into place with a finger.

“Holy hell. Holy balls.” For what seemed like the billionth time, she rechecked the spectrometer results, then looked back into her tissue sample, then back to the results. She continued to mutter to herself, a habit she’d had since childhood. But that was Shannon - a genius who had graduated high school at eleven and obtained a doctorate in medical genetics at seventeen - the youngest ever to be awarded in that field. Even as she’d sprouted up and out, growing from a rail-thin teenage girl into breasts and thighs that she barely noticed, her beauty had always been hidden by her social ineptitude and the light of her genius.

Now, at nineteen, and one year into her employment at the Renew Labs, she was looking at test results that were nothing short of magic. To the layperson, they would be magic. Shannon had been bored out of her mind, applying the RenewU 199 protocol to tissue samples to look for chromosomal aberrations, daydreaming about her favorite anime and other things that interested her. She had been working alone. Shannon found it peaceful to work alone, even if the work was tedious at times - it gave her time to think, and just recently, he’d had a lot to think about.

Jackson Calvard, her boss, for one. 

Quitting, for another.

She’d risen to the position of lab administrator three months prior, after the departure of her predecessor - also a woman - had come abruptly. She seemed to look the part - freckled, orange-haired, and bespectacled. Things had been looking up… until the fateful day that Jackson came down to the lab with a couple of big-shot investors in tow.

It was located on several floors beneath the Renew Medical Technologies building, to show some visiting big shots the state-of-the-art facility. Shannon, awkward at the best of times, had been totally unprepared for Jackson’s attitude toward her. In fact, in talking about the advances Renew was making in body-affirming gene therapies, he’d walked up and slapped her directly on the ass as she worked, remarking that her perky bottom was proof positive of the effectiveness of Renew products. 

“Even our eggheads are fucking hot,” he’d said. 

Male attention tended to send her into a nervous tizzy, especially when it came from a playboy like Jackson. She was a ‘nerd’, so to speak, and Jackson with his smooth talk and designer clothes seemed the furthest thing from that. Shannon had managed to snort out some awkward laughter.

He’d asked what she was doing for lunch with a come-hither expression on his face, causing the skeezy investor types to chuckle. Shannon had blushed self-consciously at the macrobiotic quinoa and oat mix she’d brought from home. Jackson winked and told her to hit him up if she ever wanted to try some ‘prime rib’. More awkward, snorting laughter. Even then, she hadn’t realized that the joke had been at her expense.

Shannon had never had a boyfriend in high school, she was just too nerdy and ‘weird’. While other girls were buying nail polish, she’d been buying samples of molybdenum (she collected elements) and food for her pet ferret. She’d filled these social and romantic gaps by watching lots of television and movies, and the ‘scientist girl gets hit on by hot, young CEO’ was very much in her wheelhouse.

Thus, when he’d asked her to take her lab coat off and do a twirl for the suits, tipping them a wink that said ‘I tap this on the regular’, she’d obeyed without question. Far from being degrading, it felt like a chance at human connection. Girls like her - brainy, awkward, beautiful in spite of her snorting laugh, poor dressing habits and explosion of freckles - didn’t typically get attention from playboys like Jackson. 

Of course, Jackson being a practiced social predator and cooze-hound, saw this vulnerability instantly. He could sense, it seemed, that there was a bit of loneliness about Shannon, a need for intimacy and male attention that was buried deep inside, so deep that for years it had been a forlorn hope. At that point, he’d made a a joke about the lab people ‘needing to get out more’ that caused all of his jock influencer visitors to laugh… and then tipped a Shannon a wink and left, leaving her with her heart thumping.

But of course, it hadn’t ended there. 

The CEO had returned later that evening, with Shannon working late, ostensibly to learn more about the status of current genetics work… but actually to ask about her. Or, as Jackson had put it: “How did a scientist girl get such a great ass?”

Again, she’d snorted laughter at his attention, and when his hand went to the small of back, rubbing through her lab coat at the spot just below where her long orange ponytail ended, she hadn’t resisted his touch.

It had been like taking candy from a baby. Stupid, stupid, stupid Shannon , she thought to herself as she recalled the events of her evening together with Jackson.

He’d said all the right things, he’d nodded and smiled when she gushed about her collection of figurines and the latest season of her favorite anime. She had fallen for Jackson’s act because she wanted to believe it was true - that someone like him, rich and successful and socially adept - would want to be with someone like her. It was her willingness to admit that she knew little about dating, and to defer to his superior experience, that allowed the first hookup to happen quickly. The unseemliness of it was invisible to her, in the same way that her own teenage strangeness had been. And when he asked her to do certain things that seemed a bit too intimate for a first encounter, and referred to her in ways that resembled not at all the bishonen romances she’d spent hours watching… Shannon took it in stride. It was normal , she thought. This is just how a rich and powerful guy acts.

That was how she was willing to go as far as he wanted on their first ‘date’ - really just a visit to his expensive flat for dinner and TV-watching. The dinner was cut short by sex, and the TV-watching hadn’t really happened at all - she’d brought a copy of Handsome Rose Hero Aki, and was slightly hurt when he ignored it to paw at her. Still, after being thoroughly fucked and getting some pleasure out of parts of it, Shannon assumed they would continue to see each other.

Then, silence. No texts, no lab visits. Three days later, when she’d been summoned to a meeting in the main boardroom to give a report on recent breakthroughs, she approached the adjoining break area and heard Jackson’s voice, conversing with one of his friends - ‘Chip’. She couldn’t help but peek around the corner to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

Would Jackson mention her to his friend?

Yes, yes he would. Just not in the way she’d hoped for. A quick peek into the hall revealed Jackson showing Chip an image on his phone - and from the bright orange hair, Shannon knew it could only be a picture of her.

He did not say ‘I met this great girl’, like one of the bishies might in her treasured romances. Instead, Jackson told Chip that he was hitting that . Jackson asked Chip if he thought she had good dick sucker lips . He told a joke about ‘science chicks’ knowing the secret formula for draining balls . And then he held up his phone and started to play video… video he’d taken during their night together, and sworn never to share. She had hesitated when he started filming, but he’d convinced her - with the implication that refusing would be pure, nerdy prudishness - that it was cool, and most women loved to be filmed.

A soft, forlorn moan escaped Shannon’s lips. She was terrified and disgusted. Jackson Calvard has turned out to be a first-class creep who thought nothing of showing their intimate moments to his pals.

“A bitch like this will cream herself the second a guy like me shows her any attention,” Jackson joked, and he and Chip laughed together. “But she’s got a great body - even if she doesn’t know it. I’ll let you hit it when I’m done with her!” It was a nasty remark, and Shannon could only cringe behind the wall and take it. Jackson was, after all, the boss. From the very start - when he had invited her to his apartment in order to have dinner and ‘go over some research’, he’d had no interest in any field of study but the Field of Getting Into Her Pants.

“Bitches love confidence. Did I tell you I hit that?” They continued to watch. The video showed Shan, with her pale skin and freckles, staring nearsightedly at the phone camera, without her glasses… and with her cute face framed against a big, fat penis that could only belong to Jackson Calvard himself.  It was huge, the base reaching from her chin to past the top of her head, the shaft indenting her cheek as she was pressed against it, guided by his hand, which gripped her hair firmly. There was a flush in her face; she was clearly tipsy and embarrassed. In addition to the unfair power dynamic between them, he’d plied her with alcohol to get the wheels moving.

The audio featured Jackson bullshitting. “You’re cute, you know that? Different from all the other girls. I’ve been looking for someone smart. Someone who knows things.” And Shannon gave her snorting, nebbishy laugh.

“R-really?” she said.

“Yeah, for sure,” came the reply. “I think… I’m ready to forget all the groupies and settle down with someone special.” And at those words, Shannon gave such a sweet smile that Darcy thought his heart might break. Especially since, seconds later, Jackson roughly shoved his thick cock down her throat.

What followed was Shannon earnestly and enthusiastically choking on cock, learning to perform oral sex as Jackson liked it, all in real-time. As at the lab, she was an inexperienced but eager worker, and her gurgling and eye-rolling demonstrated her commitment to the task at hand. Now, showing the video weeks later, present-day Jackson laughed as video Jackson gripped her hair and started to ram her skull up and down his shaft as if she was nothing but a dick sleeve.

“Tell a bitch you love her and she’ll do anything,” he said to Chip. “I mean, look at this stupid twat.” Shannon winced as she saw herself get slapped in the face repeatedly on video, and then choke-fucked until she was almost unconscious. The camera captured the emptiness of her expression as Jackson grunted and unloaded degrading cumshot all over her eye-rolling, quivering face.

Shannon felt something like paralysis as she watched. The video on Jackson’s phone seemed to go on forever, graduating from the filthy cumshot decorating Shannon’s weary, innocent face, to Shannon being made to crawl and show off her long legs and cute, pert butt. The expensive surroundings and occasionally-glimpsed skyline made it clear that the location of the filming was an expensive loft… and the ease with which those trappings had seduced her was another source of shame. 

“Watch this,” Jackson said to Chip, stifling a laugh. “This is how you have to treat them.” On the phone screen, a male foot kicked a wastebasket over.

“Stick your head in there,” Jackson’s voice said. 

On video, Shannon blinked up at the camera with confusion. “I-In the wastebasket?” 

“Yeah. I like to get a little kinky, you know how guys are.” Shannon, of course, did not know how guys were - she knew about glutination experiments and alleles. Prior to her encounter with Jackson, she’d been a virgin. But, having been gassed up by male attention, and being good-natured in general, she pressed her head inside the overturned garbage receptacle, which covered her completely down to her shoulders, which were too wide to fit in. “L-Like this?” her muffled voice said.

“Perfect.” 

The rest of the video consisted of Jackson fucking Shannon doggystyle, holding her long, orange braid with one hand and filming with the other, getting an angle of his thick penis pounding in and out of her pussy. She complained of discomfort several times but he didn’t care; indeed, he started spanking her pert, shapely ass in between strokes.

“What a fucking slut, huh?” Jackson crowed, and clapped Chip on the shoulder.

“Dude, we should totally double-team her. I bet we could get her to do all kinds of fucked-up shit. I mean, she’s basically autistic!” The two friends laughed together again, but Shannon had heard it only slightly… for she’d turned and ran away, with tears in her eyes, so thick they were staining her cheeks and the bottoms of her glasses. She’d skipped the meeting, and hadn’t seen Jackson Calvard since.

That had been one week ago. And in the intervening period, the thought of leaving the company had constantly been on her mind. She was introverted and nervous at the best of times, and now, she felt like everyone knew and was staring at her as she walked the halls. Even the sanctity of her beloved lab was small consolation; she lived every day in terror that Jackson would waltz in and she would be forced to play nice with his investors.

She had her resignation email typed up and ready to send. Each morning she got a little closer to sending it. But the gene sequencing series - one of the last pieces of research that he and Shannon worked on together - had been showing results. In spite of the awful situation, and the humiliation she felt, she couldn’t quit before he saw it through. 

That decision had turned out to have major, major implications.

“Shit, shit, shitballs!” she whispered to herself, totally overwhelmed by the magnitude of what she’d discovered.  She’d checked it ten times. Run the experiment over and over again, all morning. The result was always the same.

She, Shannon Riordan, had discovered total anatomic and chromosomal reversal . Holy shit! Holy fucking shitballs!

“Are you okay?”

She squealed and nearly jumped a foot in the air, dropping the experiment results. In the doorway to her office was the statuesque, voluptuous figure of Lucille, Jackson Calvard’s executive secretary. 

Lucille was a beautiful woman in a different way from Shannon; she was like a movie star. Yet on this day, she looked a little tired and harried herself, and Shannon wondered if her visit to the lab was to issue some sort of reprimand. Thankfully, Lucille cut her off before she could get out too many repeating syllables of blundering.

“All departments were asked to report the final figures in,” Lucille said. “I never got your email.” There was a strange emotion in her face that Shannon couldn’t identify, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Yes, he had forgotten to send in the financial information - but she’d also been busy that morning, a little too busy to worry about dollars and cents. Busy making perhaps the greatest scientific discovery of the century!

“R-right,” she managed. “T-the thing is - I don’t think those projections are even close anymore… uh… because-”

Lucille raised an eyebrow and walked closer, which made Shannon nervous. “What is it?” she asked. “Tell me.”

Shannon swallowed thickly. She’d always liked Lucille - she often handled Jackson’s business, and was much more friendly than Jackson. He supposed that this was much easier than breaking the news to Jackson himself. And so he gave himself a double-helping of courage, clenched his fists and started to explain.

She explained that she’d found a way to trigger spontaneous chromosomal reversal without any cell destruction. That every experiment had resulted in almost zero side effects for the tissue. That, at the least , it was an idea worth trillions, and would have endless medical uses. At the most… it was the most valuable idea in human history. It would redefine not just all beauty products but would be the standard method of non-surgical body-affirming change in an increasingly gender-fluid society. 

Shannon expected Lucille’s mouth to drop open, or for her to cry out in excitement. Renew Medical Technologies was already one of the top hundred corporations in the world, with profits and cash flow equal to a small country. This discovery would rocket it to number one; even a layperson like Lucille would instantly realize that. Yet her expression wasn’t one of surprise or joy, or even naked greed at how much money the company would be making.

Instead, her mouth trembled… and Darcy sensed moisture in her eyes. This wasn’t the Lucille he was used to seeing. No, this was a woman on the edge of a breakdown. And in that instant, Shannon, despite her lack of social graces, felt such a kinship with the redheaded woman that she very nearly started crying herself. 

“Are… you okay?” Shannon asked. In spite of her awkwardness, she reached out to comfort Lucille, and perhaps because of that same awkwardness, Lucille let her.  

“I’m going to have to take this news to Jackson,” she said, her voice thick with suppressed tears.

“T-that’s good, isn’t it?” It was something to say, but Shannon didn’t really believe it… and she realized with sudden clarity that Lucille didn’t either. In that instant, the two women bonded wordlessly - two talented, driven, beautiful women who were victims of Jackson Calvard.

Lucille shook her head, reached for a box of tissues on the nearby desk, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes, so as not to let her mascara run. “No,” she said. “No.”

“No?”

Lucille turned to Shannon, her face filled with sorrow - real sorrow. “Shannon… don’t you see? The company is going to explode. He’ll take credit for it all. He’ll go from being a CEO to… to basically being God.” She sniffled. “But he’s… you know how he is. The idea of how he’ll act… once everyone in the public loves him, once our PR team has painted him as a cross between Tony Stark and Donatella Versace… he’ll be untouchable.”

They stood silently for a moment, looking at the floor. “You understand, right? You know what I mean. He’s a monster .”

Shannon did know. She had learned it all too well. She had learned it while being forced to stick her head in a wastebasket, while Jackson Calvard fucked her from behind and dropped loaded condoms on her graceful, narrow, freckle-painted back. He’s a monster. She realized that Lucille was right. Shannon wasn’t good at articulating herself sometimes, but she was smart. In her mind she could see the steamrolling PR machine; one that insidiously and crassly told all women that the key to happiness was fuckability; in appealing to people like Jackson and his techbro, scumbag lifestyle trolls like Chip. Her discovery would ostensibly make products for women… but in the end, it was all in service to men who treated women like disposable trash.

“Ok. So… w-what should I do?” Shannon asked, her eyes wide behind the spectacle lenses and the messy orange bangs always seemed to droop over them.

Lucille touched her hand and looked at her intently. “Have you synthesized the protocol yet?”

Shannon nodded. She had been doing tests with the serum all morning, wearing heavy protective gear. Just one drop of the stuff hitting her skin, she theorized, could change her gender within twenty-four hours of making contact with his skin. For males, body hair would thin out, bones would change shape in a sort of second puberty, and hands and feet would shrink. God, the implications for male hair restoration alone were worth a trillion dollars! For women… well, to say nothing of the physical changes, a very important piece of equipment would spontaneously grow. She’d already seen it in the lab mice. 

“Keep this between us,” Lucille said. “Say nothing to anyone. Keep it out of your reports. We have to be very careful about how we… inform… Jackson.” She had a far away look on her face, a strategizing look. “If we play our cards right… there might come a day, very soon, when Jackson isn’t the man in charge anymore.”

Shannon nodded. She was willing to go along - and the idea of Jackson being ousted from his position was a welcome one. She was not sly… but the way that Lucille had emphasized the word ‘ man ’ had come through loud and clear.

 

---

 

Jackson closed his laptop contemptuously; without bothering to finish reading the email that was at the top of his inbox. He was in the conference room with the shades drawn, sitting across the table from the only other person in the company with any authority to make executive decisions - his mother. 

“It’s bullshit, gramps. The same old bullshit.”

The header in the email had been simple and to the point. Independent Audit - Harassment Claims Could Be $15BN Liability. The attached files, which Jackson didn’t bother to read, detailed a nightmarish list of potential lawsuits, including occasions in which he had literally made women have a ‘blowjob contest’ to decide who would be promoted and who would be fired. There were multiple paternity suits, multiple hidden abortions… and at least half a dozen complaints from women who had subsequently passed on due to suicide. 

The voice that lectured him from across the stout mahogany desk was older and cultured. Jeroboam Calvard, a blue-eyed, silver-haired fox even at nearly seventy years of age, was anachronistic in the way he clipped every word. Despite his advanced years, the way the man wore his double-breasted suit implied that the body beneath was spring steel.

“Jackson. You may be the current CEO, but as the former head of this company, I am concerned about your behavior. You and that friend of yours-”

“Chip? Gramps, Chip is fine. Don’t worry about Chip.”

Jeroboam furrowed his white eyebrows and made a show of checking his gold pocket watch with annoyance. He had been born in the 50’s, and carried himself like one of the business magnates of the time. “Mister Scotelli is not fine,” he rebuked. “He’s a scallywag with multiple pending harassment suits of his own! And your decision to acquire his childish, masturbatory lifestyle brand has jeopardized this company! The company your great-grandfather started-”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Fuck, not this speech again. It’s not 1930 and we’re not selling hair tonic. You’re dusty and retired anyway. Wasn’t it you who said that Renew needed ‘new blood’?

“I am retired… but I am still a gentleman. And that is what this company needs right now. All these settlements, the HR complaints-”

Now it was Jackson’s turn to yell. “Those bitches were all asking for it!” he snarled. “They’re just fuckmeat, gramps. I didn’t build up our profits and brand by turning down bitches! How do you think I keep my instincts sharp, huh? I take what I want. You know that better than anyone. Do you want us to be run by a soy-boy pussy? Or an alpha male?” 

Jackson slumped down in his chair and sulked, obviously resentful that his grandfather had essentially been called in to scold him. “Like you never did this stuff back in the day,” Jackson accused. “I saw those old photos. Your secretary had the biggest tits I’ve ever seen. And you didn’t even hire women for non-secretarial positions until you got sued.”

Jeroboam's eyes grew fiery, and for a moment, Jackson felt panic, as if he’d gone too far in taunting the old man. But after a moment, Jeroboam only straightened his tie. “That was a different time,” he said, simply. “The role of women has changed.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Jackson shot back, and moved to rise from the table. “They’re meat .”

“It would be a mistake for you to leave this meeting.” Jeroboam stared sternly at Jackson. “I’m here as a courtesy… but if you won’t curtail your excesses, my boy… the company will be taking steps. I’m going to return as a special advisor-”

“The fuck you will.”

Jeroboam ignored his outburst and went on. “Let me finish, Jackson. A system of penalties will be put in place, and your relationships will be carefully monitored. A man must contain his appetites. You’ve brought this on yourself.”

“Don’t threaten me, pops,” Jackson replied, now on his feet. “All this proves is that you’re a dinosaur who has gone soft. If you and the board try to make a move against me, I’ll bury you all.” His face was red as he said it, and he turned and walked out of the room without waiting for the older man’s response. There had been a time when Jeroboam had been the CEO… but that time was over. It was Jackson’s time. His ego had grown so large that it was all-encompassing. He had become a billionaire before age 30 by selling women their own fuckability. They were whores, sluts, sex toilets. And anyone who didn’t realize that was nothing but a bitch.

If there was anything that turned Jackson Calvard on almost as much as pussy, it was power. The exhilaration of telling off the old man had made his dick hard; he walked into his office - noting that Lucille was not at the desk in the outer room - and started to remove his clothing immediately. His blood was pumping. He was on a power-trip. He had fucked his secretary, he had fucked the head of R & D, and he didn’t care about any of the pussies and cucks trying to bring him down with their accusations and bullshit. No, he was in charge. Women were his playthings to use as he wished, and his success was the validation of that belief. Heart beating fast, he stripped off his clothes, walking around his glass-walled office in the nude. The day was growing late, the sun beginning to set and cast his athletic, gym-ripped body in a tangerine glow. 

He stood at the glass and threw up his palms against the pane, looking out at the skyline and the innumerable people below. The world was like a pussy, waiting to get fucked. By him.

“I’m the king of the mother-fucking world!” he cried out, then laughed deeply. His cock was rock hard again. “None of you cunts can stop me!”

It was in this position that Lucille found him when she returned with the hard copy of the expense reports. Hiding her astonishment well - or perhaps just used to his eccentricities - she suggested that perhaps it would be wise for him to take a drink and relax. She brought him scotch, and he reclined in his chair - still nude - and ordered her to strip and twerk for him while he relaxed. There was something about making a graduate of business school, a suit-wearing professional woman, degrade herself. It appealed to him. 

It was an outrageous request, obvious sexual harassment… and more daring than any order he’d ever given Lucille before. He expected her to refuse, so he could take the pleasure of exerting his 

To his surprise, though, Lucille did as he asked. Throwing ass. Clapping her pale, perfect ass-globes. Tantalizing him with glimpses of her pink, perfect pussy and her inviting anus. And it was such a show, and Jackson was so preoccupied with his grandfather’s warning, that the young CEO didn’t notice his scotch had a different taste than when he’d been drinking with Chip that morning.

Things had been put in motion more quickly than he ever could have imagined.

 

---

 

September 28th, 2044. 9:00 AM.

That was the moment that Jackson Calvard woke up and realized that everything had changed.

He’d gone to bed with visions of corporate dominance in his head. In the morning, he would begin consolidating his power, weakening his grandfather’s position, and arranging for the old coot to be put out to pasture before any real changes could be made. His head was full of strange and fantastic dreams that were the height of hubris - images of himself as a caesar, on a throne, surrounded by money and women, forcing his grandfather to bow and acknowledge him as the true ruler of Renew. He’d gone to sleep with a hardon, as he often did when indulging in such fantasies. 

The first sign that something was amiss was when he woke up with no sensation of morning wood. 

Jackson was used to waking up with morning wood, from his rampant fucking, from his perpetually horny nature. Sometimes he jerked off in the mornings, first thing, before even getting out of bed. He loved the feeling of having a big cock and feeling that meat slap up against his taut belly, past his navel.

This morning, though, he awoke tangled in his sheet, face-down. And instead of feeling a hard bar of turgid, blood-filled flesh snug against his expensive bedspread… he felt… something else. Something strange.

“Nnngh…” he grumbled. His voice felt strange to his own ears. Higher in register. And there was pressure on his chest. As if he was sleeping with his pectoral muscles draped over his pillows. “Fucknnngh…” he grumbled some more, and rolled over onto his back.

The weight on his chest remained. Jackson murmured again and opened and closed his hands, now laying like a corpse in a coffin. Something long and keratinized scraped against his palm at the tip of each digit - fingernails that felt somehow ‘off’. He barely registered the strange feeling of his eyelashes actually brushing against his face and he blinked blearily. He moved his hands up to his chest, trying to brush off the weight there. And…

His hands slid up against a pair of tits.

Huge, honking tits . Massive, wobbling, bra-busting tits. Jackson was no stranger to tits, he had groped more than his fair share in his debauched young life. And these were no doubt a pair of prize winners. They were absolutely enormous . The sort of natural breasts that would, when standing upright, have undersides that bulged all the way down to waist level. 

Huh? Who did I go to bed with last night? 

Was it Lucille? She was the only woman at Renew with breasts even approaching this size. But these seemed large, even for her. He dimly recalled drinking his scotch, watching Lucille twerk… and then it returned to him. He had not taken his secretary home. Preoccupied with the pending battle for control of the company, he’d gone home alone. So the occupant of the bed was…

Only yourself, Jackson. Only yourself.

Jackson’s eyes burst open. He sat up - his body feeling all wrong, the proportions alien. He looked down at himself. It was the last “he” of Jackson Calvard’s existence. Because the only description that would fit the view… was she .

Jackie Calvard. Pleased to meet you. 

Incredulous breath burst from her mouth in a wheeze. Her hands - daintier by far than her previous male mitts - pressed against her chest… and nearly sank into the flesh there. She - the pronoun was inescapable - had a pair of absolutely outlandish, pale, perfectly complexioned boobs! She burst up from the bed, turning toward the full-length mirror that was part and parcel for the bedroom of anyone as vain as the former Jackson Calvard.

“Fuck!” she cried. “Fuck! What the fuck!? Oh my god!” She tried to cover up her own enormous boobs, but it was no use. Even the perfect pink nipples were too large to be covered by her sparrow-thin wrists. It was like hugging two big cushions to her chest! There was no hiding her long, gorgeous brown hair or the hourglass shape formed by her wide hips, either. 

And here, all the twisted attitudes she’d had as a man came home to roost. 

What a piece of fuckmeat. 

The thought came naturally. Effortlessly. Without thinking. Jackie was now in the insane position of objectifying herself. She was actually ogling her own enormous tits, and… and…

She turned around and looked back at the mirror over one shoulder. “Fuck! Goddamn it, what the fuck? How!?” The biggest, fattest, most twerk-ready PAWG ass she ever could have imagined, in this life or the former! Jackson had been a great ass-gazer and a ruthless judge of female bodies, and now… she was confronted by perhaps the greatest specimen of one she had ever seen… and it was her own!

A girl with a dump truck like that deserves to get bent over and used , she thought. She could actually hear the sneering voice of her former self inside her head. “I’m… I’m…” she stammered, her new voice sounding pixie-like and almost comedic. The timbre of voice that he’d often rolled his eyes at in conference calls while making blowjob motions to male executives. “I’m a fucking… big-titted… fat-assed bitch! ”

Her phone beeped on the nightstand. Jackie scrambled in that direction, registering now just how bouncy and bubbly and cheek-clappy her new body felt as she moved. Everywhere there seemed to be pleasing protrusions of hip and thigh and breast and buttock, wobbling around obscenely. 

The phone had one text message: “A car is waiting outside. Check your closet and come downstairs. There’s still a way to go back to your old body, but only if you do exactly as we say.”

The text was followed by a signature - “The Victims Of Jackson Calvard”

An explanation was high on Jackie’s list of priorities. She tried to text back furiously but found that her fingernails - which had grown to a flawless and shining length of at least an inch, were making it impossible. She only managed: “WTFNFFFFF” before giving up entirely, crying out “Fuck!” as loud as she could. Instead of the former Jackson’s authoritative, masculine yell… she sounded like a really angry Hello Kitty plushie. Next was throwing the phone. Jackson had been a champion thrower of things when angry… but his new and delicate body couldn’t even muster enough force to crack the phone case, sending the device about eight feet in a limp-wristed delivery that was accompanied by an adorable, high-pitched grunting sound.

Almost immediately, there was a knock at the front door of her two-story loft. Everything was happening too fast. In spite of the time situation, Jackie bounced on the balls of her feet and watched the hypnotic movement of her enormous, bubbly ass-cheeks lifting and then slapping together with a loud WHOP sound, which repeated each time she made the motion. Whop whop whop whop whop whop whop! She couldn’t help but imagine the lewd things she would have said just one day ago… about herself! What a massive dumper. What a dick-breaker. I’d love to bang my balls off that. What a huge, lewd, nasty, fuck-worthy ass!

Right, the closet. She made her way to the dragon-printed sliding doors in their polished, gilded tracks, and spread them wide. The contents were much different than they had been the prior evening. There were no suits and no shoes - the shelves were denuded of ties, the drawers empty of cuff-links and brick-a-brack. Instead, there was a single black box, with a sticky note attached: “WEAR ME”

“Fuck me,” Jackie lamented, as she removed the top to reveal a stunning black cocktail dress with a high hemline… and a single pair of lacy black panties. There was no bra; perhaps because one would have to be special-ordered to fit Jackie’s enormous tits, perhaps because the newly-minted female would have no idea how to put one on anyway. Panties, and a spaghetti-strap mini-dress, were straightforward enough. 

Jackie stood staring at the clothing for a moment, and then the phone chimed again and spurred her to action. Looking harried and rather cute, her brown hair messy, she pulled on the panties. Her eyes widened at the feeling of trying to pull them up over the enormous, protruding mounds of her thick ass. 

Fuck, is this what it feels like? It’s huge back there! Again, she longed to be her former self, ogling her new self, simultaneously sexually intrigued by her new body and disgusted by its whorishness. The dress she simply threw over her head and pulled downward - the midsection roughly followed the contours of her body and provided some support for her breasts… but only a little. They still hung like melons, revealing a canyon of cleavage, causing the straps of the dress to pull taut and strain. As for the skirt… it barely covered her ass, cutting off just below the curve of each buttock. Even the slightest movement would reveal how her bubble cheeks had devoured her underwear, turning a medium-coverage back into a thong.

A knock at the door. A muffled female voice. “Jaaaaaaaackson!” Singsong and taunting, but somehow recognizable. Jackie felt her heart rate, already high, continue to accelerate. She stepped out of her room and retrieved her phone on the way, shapely princess feet pattering on the hardwood, then descending the stairs and rushing to the front door. She pulled it open, again realizing how much harder it was, how much her tiny arm had to work to move the stout oak portal.

Standing on the intricate stonework of the stoop was Lucille. Smiling. With a pair of black, high-heeled shoes dangling from one hand. 

“Hello, Jackson,” she said.

Jackie realized she was seeing Lucille differently - and it wasn’t just because his secretary had turned out to be the one who had sprung this trap on him. Her eye level was actually above his; he was at least six inches shorter. Jackson had never been the tallest man - he’d actually wore lifts in his shoes to appear taller, for alpha maleness reasons - but Jackie was positively doll-like.

“What did you do, you bitch?” she snarled. “I’ll make you pay for this-”

“Is that the way to talk to someone who controls your destiny?” Lucille replied. Jackie looked in the other woman’s eyes and saw no shred of remorse or doubt there. “There’s a formula that will exactly reverse the change you’ve undergone, Jackson. But to get it… you’re going to have to play ball.” She looked at Jackie’s denuded crotch, where a fat pussy mound was quivering beneath black lace, and chuckled to herself in her sexy, smoky voice. “No offense.”

Jackie lunged at Lucille. She couldn’t help it. Any woman who had disrespected the former Jackson had to be corrected, it was still in her nature, even having undergone such a change. But she was more awkward, slower, weighed down by tits and ass… and Lucille easily caught the clumsy slap and turned Jackie around, bending her arm painfully behind her back.

“Ow!” she squealed. “Ow! Ow! Quit it!”

“Now you listen to me,” Lucille breathed into her ear. “All those times you threw me over desks, and did as you pleased, all those times you grabbed me by the hair and shoved my head down on your cock, with the unspoken understanding that I’d be fired and blacklisted if I refused… you’ve had this coming for a long time, Jackson!”

She raised her hand, and brought it down on Jackie’s bubbly, pert ass-cheek. WHAP! “Owwwww!” she cried out. “Quit it, you bitch!”

But Lucille did not stop. She raised her hand again. “Jackson - I have been waiting to say this to you for eighteen months,” she seethed into Jackie’s ear. Lucille’s hand descended and planted a massive spanking on Jackie’s cheek, leaving a red palm-print. “Shut up bitch!” 

Jackie cried out in a pathetic moan. She was being shoved up against the wall, just inside the entryway, and Lucille was absolutely going to town on her butt, taking out those eighteen months of frustration in a series of cheek-wobbling, skin-reddening spanks. Each time her palm descended, Jackie whimpered and moaned.

WHAP! “Do you like that, Jackson?”
WHAP! “All the things you said about me, not caring how I felt?”

WHAP! “Who’s the fat-assed bitch now?”
WHAP! “Who has the dicksucker lips now, you cocksleeve?”

WHAP! “Who has the wet cunt box that’s always down to fuck? Say it!”

“No!” Jackie cried out, tears welling in her eyes. “Fuck you, you stupid slut-”

Lucille’s eyes flashed and she brought down the biggest spanking yet - it reverberated in the entryway and made Jackie’s reddening buttock wobble and jiggle beautifully, drawing another helpless moan.

“You don’t understand, Jackson,” Lucille snarled, using the legal name of her ‘boss’ with something like contempt. “ You’re the stupid slut here. Not me. And I want to hear you say it.”

She raised up her hand. Her engagement ring glimmered in the light.

“No!” Jackie refused, shaking her head. “I won’t!” And so the hand fell, again, and again, and again, until she could take no more, and she started blurting out words that would placate Lucille, in between the impacts on her huge, bubbly bottom.

“Fine! I’m a slut!” she cried out. “I’m a slut!”

“You can do better than that! Say the same shit you used to say about me, and all the other women at the office!” Lucille’s voice had grown angry and insistent.

Jackie squinted her eyes shut and tears rolled down her cheeks. It was so unfair. The role swap had come so quickly and mercilessly, she had mental whiplash! It didn’t compute… she was supposed to be the one in charge, lording over Lucille and her ilk. And that was the way it was supposed to be… forever! She drew in a breath.

“I’m a stupid whore with a huge, fuckable ass!” Jackie cried. “I’m… I’m only good for fucking! I’m a dumb dick sleeve! My tits are so huge it’s embarrassing!”

Lucille pulled back, a satisfied smile on her face. Jackie whimpered in defeat and reached around to rub her sore bottom. “Are you ready to listen?” she asked. 

Jackie nodded sulkily. Inwardly, she was planning to take terrible revenge as soon as she could… but for now… it was clear who had the upper hand. Lucille presented the shoes and Jackie clumsily slid her dainty, pale-skinned feet into them, the cute toes and arches of which looked delicious. Despite her former male status, she was no tomboy. She was a particularly feminine woman.

Once the shoes were on - and Jackie taking her first halting, wobbly steps - Lucille presented one more item from behind her back. A combination facemask and ball-gag. It was black in color and would look outwardly like the sort of anti-flu mask one might wear on an airplane. Inside, though, Jackie’s mouth would be wrapped around a large rubber knob.

“Open wide,” Lucille prompted. Glaring, Jackie did. The big rubber plug slid past her puffy, shapely dicksucker lips, and the mask attached tightly behind her ears. With it firmly in place, Lucille led Jackie out the door.

There was a company limousine waiting outside the building, and Lucille led Jackie to the rear door, where the driver was waiting. He was a rugged older man with thick muscles, wearing a tee-shirt beneath a simple suit jacket. A mountain-climber type with long dark hair that was heavily peppered with gray.

He’s hot , Jackie thought. Probably has a big fat cock, too . Then her eyes went wide as she realized how naturally and effortlessly the thought had come. Had she really just thought that? About a guy?

They entered the limousine with Jackie blushing furiously, and feeling renewed anger about how her ‘change’ was affecting her. Lucille slid into a seat opposite her. And then, instead of closing the door, the ‘driver’ also entered the back seat… and sat next to Lucille. The redhead rubbed his thigh affectionately, planted a kiss on his cheek… and then spoke to him.

“This is your engagement gift honey,” she said. “From me to you. Her name is Jacqueline.”

The rugged man’s eyes lit up; Jackie’s own gray-colored eyes went wide. The man opposite her was in his early forties, but his forearms, thighs, chest, and strong jaw seemed to exude vitality. “Really?” he said. “I know you said something kinky, Lucy… but this!” He glanced at Jackie. “So she’s-”

“She’s a ‘professional’, yes.” Lucille planted a kiss on his cheek. “But you know I have no hangups, Bill. I thought we could all have some fun together. Don’t worry - it’s all been agreed to. She’ll be… well compensated.”

Lucille shot Jackie a look then, psychically communicating that if she ever hoped to regain her former penis-having form, she was going to have to do more than just apologize. Jackie found that her heart was racing. So this was the infamous Bill, the fiancee that she’d so often teased Lucille about… and done her best to sabotage.

“Take out his dick,” Lucille prompted Jackie. The rear of the stretch limo was spacious, with enough room for Jackie to get on her knees in front of the brawny male. Bill seemed more bemused than anything; or perhaps he was thinking about how lucky he was, that he was about to marry a woman who had arranged a threesome for him that featured a dark-haired prostitute with absolutely enormous tits.

In that moment, Jackie made a deal with herself, inside her head. It would be like prison. She would do whatever she needed to do while she was ‘inside’, and then, never speak of it again. She slid from her seat and knee-walked over to Bill, then reached up with trembling hands toward the crotch of his pants. One zipper-pull later and she found herself caressing something big and thick and long as it emerged.

Damn it… it's huge!

In spite of her hesitation, her hands were drawn to that big, rugged penis. Jackie felt a pang of jealousy as she eyeballed it and realized it was longer and thicker than her ‘former’ penis had been… and that wasn’t all. There was another feeling too. A natural submissiveness and desire to serve. The former Jackson Calvard had always believed that women respected the biggest cocks in the room… and now, Jackie had internalized that belief.

She moaned around her gag. She did respect it. Color flushed to her cheeks.

“Use your huge tits to get my boyfriend’s cock hard, whore,” Lucille spat, and chuckled when Bill looked at her with surprise. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “This one likes being treated this way. In fact… it’s what she thinks women deserve? Isn’t that right, Jacqueline?”

Jackie moaned pathetically, still staring at that big, long cock. It was thicker than her arm and had to be at least twelve inches. What a monster! Her hands moved to pull down the front of her dress and expose her huge, pale tits that hung enormous with their large pink nipples. Instinctively, having seen it done many times from the opposite vantage, she snuggled as close as she could to the man and wrapped her jugs around his shaft, before moving them up and down.

“Damn, Lucy,” Bill grunted, leaning back and enjoying himself. “This is one heck of a gift!” The newly-engaged couple shared an unchaste kiss and groped each other while Jackie went about her business, titfucking that big, throbbing rod. She couldn’t help but make cute noises of exertion as she dutifully lifted and dropped her fat funbags.

Lucille continued to talk dirty, whispering in Bill’s ear in a low voice, telling him how much she enjoyed watching that little slut take care of his huge cock . Jackie tried to keep her mind on the task at hand. She knelt, knock-kneed and ankle-splayed, and did the best she could… but nothing could stop her mind from racing with new unfamiliar twists on classic Jackson Calvard instincts. She noticed that her tits were actually larger than Lucille’s, and felt a strange pride in it. She guessed that if she wanted to, she could probably seduce Bill and steal him away… that would show the bitch! Besides, she rationalized. The better job she did at making Bill cum, the sooner the humiliation would be over.

For these reasons and others she couldn’t yet admit or didn’t yet realize, Jackie threw herself into the task of titfucking that big penis, even craning her neck down to rub her face against the tip when it emerged from her cleavage… though she couldn’t suck it because of the mask. Bill continued to grow in hardness; Lucille was teasing him into a frenzy, telling him how much she wanted to see her big, strong man put a little whore in her place.

It was at this point that Jackie felt a lubricated, telltale moistness between her legs. She hadn’t had time to explore her new anatomy, but there could be no denying what this was. Her body was getting itself ready. Preparing for penetration. Setting the stage for a rough fucking at the hands of the brawny, handsome man that was right in front of her!

“Go ahead,” Lucille told Bill. “Be as rough as you want. She likes it. She thinks women are just dick sleeves anyway. Isn’t that right?” Bill’s hand descended into Jackie’s hair and she moaned as she was hauled up onto his lap in a cowgirl position. He lifted her with such muscled ease that her heart fluttered like a princess being wooed by the beast.

She groaned through her gag as Bill’s hand, weathered and scarred from woodworking or mountain climbing or some other activity that the former Jackson would have never bothered with, reached beneath and pulled her panties to the side, exposing her pink, blushing, soaking wet, fat-mounded pussy slit! His erection slid against it with almost no friction, she was drenched down there, and feeling a constant throb inside her midsection.

It was here that Jackie realized for the first time how one could get wrapped up in a sexual encounter without ever having planned to. Things seemed to have a momentum all their own, and her body was responding. She could feel that big, ruddy shaft throbbing against her labia! She realized that she wanted dick . Dick dick dick dick dick dick dick. She, the newly-minted Jackie Calvard, wanted to get her back blown out! She wanted that twelve inch pipe in her guts! As much as Jackson had wanted to fuck… she wanted to be fucked!

Bill’s strong hands braced under her round, soft ass and lifted her up, making her heart flutter again at his strength. Jackie felt an intense pressure at her entrance as the big knob slid across her clit, then to her delta, and then, suddenly, she was being impaled. She slid down onto Bill’s shaft as neatly as succulent, barbecued meat might slide onto a skewer. That throbbing, arm-thick penis was… was…

“Ngghrrrrrnnnnghhhh!!” she groaned, and her pretty eyes fluttered like lazy butterflies, becoming half-lidded. Lucille laughed as she watched Jackie instinctively wrap her arms around Bill’s neck and shoulders and start to ride him.

“God, you really love cock, don’t you?” Lucille taunted, just inches away from Jackie’s ear. “I guess when a really big dick is around… women can’t help themselves, can they? I think you told me that.” She was masturbating too, her sliding between her legs, turned on not just by the sexual action but by pure catharsis. “You’re nothing but a dick-bitch, aren’t you? A whore for the biggest fucking cocks you can find! Oh, this is rich!”

Bill seemed not to notice how strangely familiar Lucille’s taunting was. He was too busy lifting and dropping Jackie’s molten bitch-box on the iron bar of his prick, creating a lewd squelching noise as her lube splattered all over his big balls. He brought his hips up to meet her each time, drawing out groaning noises as he drove deep, and making the clapping of her pale bubble cheeks echo in the limo. Her buttocks would open up as she was lifted, displaying her perfect pink asshole, then slap back together as she dropped down, and the motion created a rhythm that grew steady over several minutes.

Jackie held on for dear life, as an inexperienced rider might cling to a mechanical bull. And she was inexperienced… even if it turned out she had an embarrassing, incriminating knack for it. Lucille was happy to tell her all about this as she was fucked, nibbling her earlobe and purring that she’d finally found her calling, that the Jackson should have been bending over and letting her strap it on instead of sexually harassing her.

“You’ve always been a bitch, haven’t you?” Lucille seethed viciously, fingering herself while Jackie groaned and gasped into her gag. “You only respected cocks before, and you only respect cocks now. Nothing has really changed, has it, Jackson?” She slapped Jackie’s ass. “Look at the way you’re moving your hips! Bringing your pelvis down to meet that cock while it fucks up your pussy! All that time you spent calling me a whore… it turns out, you were the whore all along!”

Jackie was doing a lot of denying, a lot of head-shaking, but nothing could hide the fact that she was driving her body down onto that dick with increasing force, matching Bill’s enthusiastic movements. She couldn’t help it. Something was building inside, there was a spot, an unspeakable spot, that Bill’s fat cock was hitting, and she wanted more. She wanted that spot punished, she wanted the fire that was kindling there to rage into an inferno. Having her pussy fucked felt so good! And… and…

I deserve it. Look at my huge tits and my fat ass! I’m a piece of meat!

That was the key piece of the puzzle. Jackson Calvard, as a man, had been utterly misogynist, and internalized that view so intensely… that Jackie couldn’t help but turn it upon herself. Her groans grew louder and louder, the intensity of the fucking grew along with them. Lucille reached up to Jackie’s mask. “I’m going to take this off so you can tell my boyfriend how much you like it,” she warned. “But you’d better talk nicely, Jackie. You know what happens if you don’t.”

She unhooked the mask and pulled the gag from Jackie’s mouth in a splatter of spit that dripped down her shining, moist, inflated lips. She’d put on no makeup, but she was so naturally beautiful that it was almost impossible to tell - large, wet eyes, long eyelashes, lips that looked botox-filled even if they were ‘natural’... or as ‘natural’ as one could be with the help of some genetic fuckery.

And what did Jackie Calvard say, granted the freedom of speech? In the moment, she told herself she would say “Stop, this is all a trick!” or “I’m really a man!” or “I’m going to make you regret this!”

But no. What came out was: “F-fuck, I love your huge fucking donkey dick in my pussyyyyy!”, and it contained no defiance at all… only a screeching, needy tone that spoke to a desire for more cock, more fucking, more degradation. She clutched herself to Bill and pressed her face into his neck. His large hands groped her buttocks and they cried out together as the sizzle in Jackie’s cunt was hammered into a fireball that radiated out.

“I’m… fucking… cummmmiiiiiing!” she wailed. “Don’t… stop… fucking me!” She could not stop herself from crying and begging for cock-pounding, it just felt too good. Jackie’s life as a woman really and truly started at that moment, with every bit of her reproductive system quivering and spasming as a brutal orgasm tore through her body. She was getting fucked , her cheeks were getting clapped , her back was getting blown out . And the grunting of her partner was another sound she recognized from her former self… the sound that accompanied a huge, impregnating load being blasted deep into her cunt!

Her vision started to swim and all reason departed for a time. Her body went limp and the air became a chorus of gasps, with Lucille reaching orgasm as well, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Jackie getting her brains fucked out by her fiancee. For her, it was delicious revenge, and the nail in the coffin of any spell that Jackson might have once held over her. As ‘Jackie’, soft and fuckable and obviously a total cock slut, she had no such power.

It was Lucille that pushed Jackie off of Bill’s lap, letting her tumble to the carpeted floor of the limo. While Bill thanked her profusely for arranging such a tryst, which had long been a fantasy of his, she kept her eyes on Jackie, who was moaning on the ground, arms wrapped around her smooth midsection. A huge creampie was bubbling out of slit as she lay on one hip, sliding down the bubbly sphere of her lower ass-cheek. She groaned and bit her lip as a large deposit of white, chowdery cum burbled out along with a degrading queef. She was well-and-truly fucked, and in as degrading a position as she’d ever put a woman into in her prior form.

“Take us to the office, Bill,” Lucille prompted. “It’s almost lunch. And we have a lunch meeting.”

Bill seemed surprised at this request. “Wait… you want me to take her to the office? Won’t you get in trouble for bringing… I mean…” He shrugged. “Does she work there or something?”

Lucille giggled to herself, kissed his forehead, and shook her head. “It’s complicated,” she replied. And so Bill zipped up his pants and departed the rear of the vehicle, putting on a driver’s hat as he did so. By the time a shaky-limbed Jackie had recovered enough to haul herself back up onto the seat and pull her panties back on, the car was already in motion.

 

---

 

Forty-five minutes later, she found herself walking unsteadily to one of the upstairs offices, still wearing Lucille’s slutty evening dress. Lucille had calculated well - it showed off every detail of her oversexed, humiliatingly voluptuous body. As Jackie moved, she took stock of the morning’s insane events.

Clearly, Renew had made a groundbreaking discovery… and Jackie had been exposed to it. That much was clear. Lucille hadn’t yet informed her of exactly what terms would result in the return of her prior sex. She had only said that it was contingent on ‘cooperation’. Thus, the order to ascend to the posh office lounge had been given. It was a swank place with a built-in bar, and Jackie had used it many times as a place to entertain investors and male executives, often with ‘arranged’ female company.

Lucille had spent the twenty-minute ride applying makeup to Jackie, working quickly and industriously with a practiced hand, pausing occasionally to laugh and say ‘this looks good on you, Jackson’ or ‘such wide eyes… you look too cute’. The RenewU building had plenty of mirrored glass, especially inside the elevators, so Jackie had plenty of time to admire the handiwork of her now fellow baddie - and it was quite a transformation. Lucille had applied a smokey eye, eyeliner, wet-looking gloss… the whole catalogue. No fake eyelashes were needed; those had spontaneously grown to prostitute length while Jackie slept. All in all, she now looked totally down to fuck and more than a little trashy.

When she arrived, the lounge was empty. Jackie slumped down into a chair. Her ass was so phat, it felt like nestling down on two cushions. Her back was already hurting from the weight of her enormous, dress-stretching tits, which were giving the thin straps of her cocktail number a serious workout. The high heels were murder as well. How do women put up with this , she wondered.

She was about to put up with a lot more.

Less than a minute later, the door to the waiting area opened. Jackie expected to see Lucille, but instead, she saw a very familiar face. It was Chip Scotelli, looking hungover, sleazy, and stinking like sex and Axe body spray. He shut and locked the door behind him and walked to the bar. He was wearing a Metallica tee-shirt beneath a faux snake-skin jacket, and sunglasses indoors. He looked like the world’s biggest douche.

Even so, Jackie was glad to see him. Chip had always been an ally. And she made a spur of the moment decision. “Chip!” she cried out. “Chip, thank god. It’s fucking crazy. They screwed me over, they’re going to ruin my life, and sink the company-”

Chip looked at her and waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, shit… are you one of Jackson’s bitches?” he asked, and oozed his way over to the chair where she was sitting. Jackie shook her head fiercely. “That fucker emailed me and said he had some new meat.”

“No, shithead! I’m Jackson! I got… exposed to something in the lab, or something! Some… chromosomal shit! And now I’m a… a fucking…”

Chip was already walking in her direction, and silenced the tirade by putting a finger to Jackie’s lips. It smelled like cheap vape juice. “Shh… how did a hot bitch like you learn to use all those big science words? It’s a turn off, baby. I’ve got a much better use for that mouth of yours!” He licked his lips, and Jackie realized what was going on.

Oh no, she thought. No way! Chip wants to bang me!

It was somehow perfectly poetic that, in such a vulnerable state, Jackie found herself exposed to the only member of the company more rapey than she herself had been. Chip’s hand went to the front of his trousers deftly, and seconds later, Jackie had her first official down-the-barrel view of a big, well-groomed, tanning-bed toasted penis . A waft of cologne and sweat slid insidiously up her dainty nostrils.

This is what it’s like , she realized. This is what it’s been like for all those women I stood over, implying they had no choice but to do what I wanted. Implying it would help their careers, or fooling them into thinking I actually cared, or after getting them so hammered they barely knew what was what! Christ, is this really how it feels from the other end? Just Chip, shoving his cock in your face?

“Let me put something down your throat so you don’t have to talk so much,” Chip said, and his hand firmly closed around Jackie’s hair. Her eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to object… and instantly realized that was a mistake. A big mistake. She gurgled pathetically as Chip’s big, fat penis burrowed all the way to the back of her throat.

“Damn, you know how to suck a dick!” Chip brayed, sounding like a total ass as usual. “No wonder Jackson keeps you around!” He took a more firm grip on Jackie’s head and braced one alligator shoe on the sofa cushions, giving him a proper throat-fucking angle for his girthy, eight-inch meat… and started to thrust it in.

“Glrrrrrrk!” Jackie moaned, as he angled his sweaty penis to slide into her esophagus. “Gluruaaaarrrrk! Glrk! Glrk! Glrk! Glrk!” He had started to pummel her windpipe with short strokes that made spittle start to run down her chin and into the enormous cleavage presented by her too-small dress. 

“Ahhh… fuck yes. This is just what I needed before the meeting,” Chip sighed, flexing his ass and now pounding Jackie’s mouth with his pants around his hips. “And you’re great at this! You know, if Jackson ever kicks you off the payroll, you should send me a text… I’ll take care of you!” And of course, Jackie knew this was bullshit - what Chip would really do is promise any given women financial security, fuck her, and ghost her. She’d seen him do it - and done it herself, in her previous life - many times.

She could barely think, with Chip ramming his cock so deep in her throat if felt like her tonsils would break off. Occasionally he would take a big handful of her tits, talking lewdly about how huge they were and giving them slaps that increased in intensity as his orgasm approached. He even slapped her on the cheek multiple times. Occasionally, he would pull his cock from Jackie’s mouth and let her take several gazed, gasping breaths before shoving it back in.

“Come on, baby - let’s see some enthusiasm!” Chip scolded, and removed his hands from her head. “We gotta squeeze this in before lunch!”

There was no escape. Feeling a strange and unwilling tingling in her new body, she squinted her eyes shut cutely and started to bob her head up and down on Chip’s cock. Shameful as it was, she mostly knew how to give good blowjobs from, in the past, receiving so many, and watching so much objectifying, lewd porn. Even more embarrassing, her new hyper-female body seemed tailor made to choke on dick! She expected to gag and choke, but was able to swallow the entire thing to the base, her graceful nose buried in Chip’s pubes.

Again there was a heat between her legs that was simultaneously enjoyable and unwelcome. And then, a rap of knuckles on the top of her head, drawing a moan. “That’s what we call a good ol’ donkey punch, you fucking slut,” Chip laughed. “You didn’t need those brain cells anyway. After this, you can head down to the cafeteria and get me a sandwich. Hahaha- ah!” 

His voice cracked because the blowjob had become so enjoyable. With her eyes half-lidded and dazed, Jackie was instinctively slurping and sucking Chip’s cock as if she’d been blowing dudes her entire life - an aptitude that came as just as much a surprise to her as it did to Chip. The former Jackson Calvard had always been turned on by women-as-property. Women as sex objects, women as blowjob machines, women as outputs for male aggression. He’d considered them to fill the role of providing comfort to the ones who made the real decisions - the men. And now… well.

Those chickens were coming home to roost.

Jackie was many things. Had been many things. Including a card-carrying member of the opposite sex. But she wasn’t stupid. All of the disregard for women that had filled her prior life… the seeing them as sex toys and dick sleeves and fuck-toilets… was now being turned inward. Now, she was a woman… but the same tropes of male dominance and sexual servitude were still inside her, and stronger than ever!

W-wait… am I actually enjoying… sucking on Chip’s fat cock!?

The answer was yes. Not only that, but she’d liked it when he slapped her tits, verbally degraded her, and bonked her on the top of the head with his knuckles. Chip had a cock, after all - and his entire prior philosophy dictated that he was entitled to treat whores like her… like shit!

This realization sank in at about the same time she wrapped her hands around Chip’s waist and let him core her throat to the balls, drooling all over his nuts. “Ah! That’s it, you fuckin’ toilet!” Chip grunted, and took hold of her hair, thrusting as deep as he could. Jackie could feel the man’s balls twitch against his lips - a huge pair of inflated dicksuckers, of course, whatever had changed her had spared no area of her physique - and then had the sense of that big, girthy prick throbbing in her windpipe as shot after shot of Chip’s thick, stinky, degrading cum was blasted down her throat. 

He was gentlemanly enough to pull out and jerk a few ropes onto her face and tits for good measure, and Jackie was powerless to resist, finding herself a prisoner of her own internalized whorishness… and a hyper-female body that seemed pumped full of lust. Her pussy - a pretty amazing novelty for the first while, believe me - was soaking wet in spite of her rough treatment. And how many times had she, as Jackson, used that line?

You’re soaking wet! You know you want it!

Too many. She considered this as Chip let her slump back into her seat and, buckling his belt, exited the room, listing like a sailor from the prior night’s excess. On the way out, he bumped shoulders with a new arrival, a tall and long-haired man wearing a lab coat.

“Oh, shit,” Chip said. “You’re the new R & D dude, huh? They texted me and told me to come in for some meeting.”

The new arrival looked at Chip as if the much younger techbro was some sort of insect. “That’s right,” he said. His voice was very deep even though his body was lanky and graceful. He had spectacles and long orange hair pulled back in a ponytail. “You won’t want to miss it. We’ve got big plans for you.”

He extended his hand and Chip shook it, then shot him the finger guns. Seconds later, he sauntered out, leaving Jackie alone in the room with the new arrival. Soon, the tall, pale-skinned man was walking to stand over her.

Jackie was, of course, a mess - the mascara, along with several of Chip’s thick, virile nut ropes, were smeared all over her face. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot from rough oral sex. Her dress was askew, revealing her thick, large nipples. But the orange-haired man didn’t seem to care.

“Hello,” he said, and Jackie thought his comically deep voice was something you might hear from a very romantic vampire in an anime movie about dating Dracula. She looked up wearily. The man’s face was supernaturally handsome, with a dusting of freckles across his nose, sharp cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. He was very slender; perhaps even slightly feminine. It was a very pretty-boy sort of handsomeness. “How do you like your new body?”

Jackie blinked. “W-wait-” she said, her voice rough from Chip’s throat-fucking. “Who are you? What do you know about my body?”

“Oh, I know a lot of things!” The man started to laugh. It was deep and masculine and jolly… but then it ended in a nerdy snort.

Jackie knew that snort. She peered upward, and suddenly, it all came together. The lab coat. The orange hair. The glasses. The freckles. She was looking at… at…

“Shannon Riordan,” the man said, in his overly theatrical way, even throwing in a short bow. “You remember me, don’t you, Mister Calvard? I decided to change things up, using the new formula I discovered. So I guess that makes us two peas in a pod. And don’t worry - I’ve got the recipe that’ll turn us back, right here!” She reached into a pocket of her lab coat, and pulled out a thumb drive.

“You!” Jackie accused, her cute voice sounding far from authoritative. “Take me to the lab right now, and reverse this! And maybe I won’t press charges that send you to jail for the rest of your life! What you did to me is… assault! Or… poisoning!”

Shannon crossed his arms and snorted out more laughter. “You’d know all about assault, wouldn’t you, boss? But let me tell you… this stuff really works. With this body I’ve got all sorts of confidence I never had before. I always liked watching this sort of long-haired, handsome guy in my favorite anime. So now, I’m an official bishie ! It’s gonna make a trillion dollars!”

“What the fuck is a bishie?” Jackie complained, growing impatient, having no idea that it described the hunky and somewhat effeminate male love interests that often show up in Shannon’s favorite anime.

“Plus,” Shannon went on, picking up speed and missing social cues as usual, “I wanted to try this out.” His hands went down to his extremely tight slacks, unbuttoning the crotch. Jackie’s eyes widened as she saw what was being revealed. The lab coat had been covering it before, but nothing could hide the sixteen inches of arm-thick, pale cock that flopped out of Shannon’s zipper and nearly hit Jackie in the face on the way down. Her eyes, wide as saucers, followed the movement of that meat; it almost seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Jackie didn’t realize it… but she was biting her gloss-painted lower lip, and her eyes were completely transfixed. Shannon’s huge cock was the sort of fantasy a male would pay millions for, they hadn’t been wrong about that. It was a good seven inches longer than Chip’s, and five inches longer than Bill’s, which had already been enormous. 

W-what a monster horse cock, Jackie thought. If he put it in my mouth… it would probably reach all the way to my stomach! The idea excited her in spite of her desperate situation, and every time she tied to tell herself to stop being such a cocksucking whore, or such a bitch, or such a fucking slut… the internal request was drowned out by her desire. Her desire to-

She reached out a trembling arm and took hold of Shannon’s penis, feeling it immediately start to come to life as her fingers wrapped around the girth. It’s… so disgustingly big , she thought. Only a total cock slut would want to fuck something like this! It would permanently mess up my insides!

“Jeez!” Shannon exclaimed. “You seem more interested in my penis than you are in getting your old body back!” She waggled the thumb drive in front of Jackie’s face. “I guess we don’t need the reversal formula, then.” She took the thumb drive and tossed it toward the wastebasket that was by the bar; it ricocheted once and then fell in with a light thump. 

“No!” Jackie cried out. Desperately, she slid off of the couch and started to move toward the basket, stumbling, falling to all fours before scrambling to overturn the basket and retrieve the drive. Shortly, she heard more of Shannon’s laughter, that strange mix of confident maleness and her former nerdiness.

“Wow… I guess this is kinda what I looked like, huh? Crawling around, when I was all desperate to please you because you really cared about me.” He walked over to stand over Jackie. “That’s what I looked like, right Mr. Calvard?”

Jackie gulped. “N-no… I mean… that was just… just a joke-”

“Put your head in the basket,” Shannon ordered. Now that deep bishonen voice was coming into place. “See what it’s like. After all… we guys are just kinky like that. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Shannon had never been a vindictive person, but in this new form, they couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction in seeing the tables turned on their revenge-porning, lying, manipulating tormentor. “Even if you have the formula, you still need me to synthesize it.”

Jackie whimpered and slid her head into the overturned waste bucket. It was wide enough to barely fit her shoulders, and half filled with fruit peelings and trash from people making cocktails. It stank. She moaned again as she felt her dress get thrown up over her heart-shaped hips, revealing her big, pale bubble butt. 

“Now, say what you said to me,” Shannon prompted. 

Jackie whimpered and shook her head inside the basket. “I… I don’t know what I said!”

“You mean you don’t remember? Damn… I haven’t been able to forget. Because it seemed so mean, but I thought it was something guys would like, so I did it, because you tricked me. So I think it’s only fair if you say it too.”

“I swear, I don’t remember!” Jackie’s excuses felt pathetic even to her own ears, and that wasn’t the only thing making her tremble. The knowledge that she was on all fours, and that huge, hanging, sixteen inch cock was hanging over her bare bottom… it was filling her with an unwelcome sort of excitement. No matter how much she told herself to stop wanting dick , to stop obeying men just because they were hot and had big cocks , and to stop being such a fucking big-titted, fat-assed slut … Jackie Calvard couldn’t help it! As Jackson, she had internalized for years that this was how women should act, and all women were good for!

Shannon laughed. “Okay. I thought you might not remember. So… I have a little something here to help.” There was a pause, and Jackie heard audio start to play from a tinny phone speaker. It occurred to her quickly that Shannon had obtained her phone. Lucille must have provided it. And that meant access to the video of their entire encounter. 

Jackie heard her former male voice speak. ‘Beg me to fuck your pussy,’ he ordered. ‘You act all smart but you’re really just a whore who likes big cocks, aren’t you? So say it. Say… ‘fuck my stupid whore pussy with your fat cock!’’

Shannon stopped the lewd video and waited. Jackie felt her head swimming. She was now in the position of following a degrading order from her former self . And the most humiliating part was… she wanted to follow it! All the things she’d said about women being disposable dick sleeves and cock-addicted whores… it was true… of her!

“F-fuck my stupid whore pussy with your fat cock!” she whimpered, wiggling her bottom pathetically and making her cheeks clap. “I’m j-just a whore who likes big cocks!”

WHOP! Shannon’s big, long meat slapped down on one of her round, bulbous ass-globes. “Not bad! Keep going!” The smooth anime villain voice would have been comical in any other situation.

“I’m a big-titted, fat-assed bitch! You can fuck me any time you want!” Jackie’s voice was slightly muffled by the wastebasket, and this was also true of the groaning, shuddering moan that slipped out of her lips when she felt an enormous, round knob side against her pussy and anus, teasing those tender holes and leaving wet pre-cum behind. The part prodding her felt large as a billiard ball and almost as hard. “F-fuuuuck,” she groaned. “You’ll… totally destroy my ass and pussy!”

“That’s right! Then, you’ll become my woman!” Shannon exclaimed, then snorted laughter. “I’ve always wanted to say that.” Jackie couldn’t see it, but the lab coat, shirt, and pants had been fully doffed, revealing a pale, lanky otter’s body where every lean muscle stood out. The ideal of a handsome and confident male - or, at least, Shannon’s anime-watching ideal of one. Ever the researcher, they were eager to try out the new, enormous penis that sprouted turgid and curved from below their ripped abdominals.

The sound the huge cock made sliding into Jackie craving, buttery cunt had no equal in nature… a degrading, lubricated goooossshhhhh that displaced a splattery lance of squirt as it went on. Jackie’s eyes rolled back and her mind went black. The thumb-drive, which she had retrieved with her teeth, fell from her drooling mouth. For all the power and unassailability she’d tried to project in her former shape, her new body was performing as the ultimate cock-taking machine, swallowing more than a foot of arm-thick meat at the first stroke, mopping the veinous length with her fat, glistening fat labia as more and more cock disappeared into the brilliant pink of her crescent.

“Wow, look how much went in! You took way more than I did!” Shannon marveled, sounding studious. “I could get used to having a penis!” The insertion turned into regular strokes a few moments later. And though Jackie wanted to cry out that this wasn’t fair, that she wasn’t really a brunette bitch who loved getting her cunt blown out by massive horse cocks, she wasn’t able to say even a single word. Instead, she moaned . She moaned and gasped and reached back to pull her own fat, degrading ass-cheeks apart, hoping to get more hot, handsome, cunt-destroying male dick blasted into her baby sack.

Because she - Jackie Calvard - fucking loved cock . 

It had been building in her with Bill, Lucille’s fiancee, and continued building with Chip, her own former compadre. She had suppressed it as best she could. But the entire while, the urgency of returning to male form had been fading, and the image of fat penises, big, ejaculating, impregnating, heavy-sacked, veiny, jizz-pump fuckmeat… had been coming to the forefront.

She wanted that sixteen inch bitch-breaker in all of her holes!

“Fnnnnnnghghghgh!” Jackie mewled, drooling pathetically in the garbage as Shannon’s cock sliced into her cunt with deep strokes, sending a pair of heavy balls banging off Jackie’s clit. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” The noises coming from her mouth were far from the confident CEO proclamations of yesterday. She was grunting like a stuck pig, and matched only in her obscenity by the wet schlooorp sound of her pussy, sucking on Shannon’s big dick!

She came. How could she not? There was no resisting it. A starburst of pleasure went off that made the orgasms of her prior life seem muted by comparison. Places and anatomy she’d never imagined all thrummed and churned inside her like a tuning fork as what felt like her entire midsection radiated with pleasure. Her eyes crossed and drool ran from her mouth as her tongue lolled. The day of the confident CEO was over… replaced by fucksow in a garbage can making brain damaged, cock-hungry animal bleatings!

“Fnnghhhhhhnnnglll…” she blubbered, feeling like her newly-minted ovaries were going to explode out of her smooth and supple body. There could be no doubt that the huge penis pummeling her insides had sent her into a breeding frenzy, beyond which nothing seemed important - not money, not status, not the retaking of her prior position or shape. She wanted cock! Schlong, dick, meat! She was nothing but a whore trying to get the pipe, loving the feeling of her hips being grabbed and a pair of fat balls banging off her cunt!

Shannon cried out too; shoving that sixteen-incher so far inside Jackie that it felt to the latter like her womb was being shoved up into her stomach. She didn’t care - she loved it, and loved the pulsating feeling of her ginger partner’s cock as a massive load of semen flooded her insides. She could actually sense the virile spurts as they painted her guts white! 

Even Shannon seemed surprised by the amount of cum, stating “Ah! I might have gone… a bit overboard… with these balls!” in between the gasps of ejaculation. As it was, the oversized cock of the head of R & D continued to spurt for nearly a minute, filling Jackie’s hot, needy cunt to the brim. Once it was withdrawn to jerk the last few thick spurts over her lewd ass-cheeks, Jackie could only groan and take it, even pulling apart her ass to make a better target. A sloppy mess of sperm slid out of her well-fucked cunt box and splattered to the ground.

I want more dick , she thought. I want more dick, I want more dick, I want more diiiiiiiiiick!

It was minutes before she came to her senses and remembered why she had stuck her head in a wastebasket in the first place. By the time she emerged and rolled groggily over, she found herself staring up at three people. The handsome Shannon, who was pushing glasses up their noses studiously, as well as the statuesque Lucille… and, of course, the old man. The silver-haired fox who was shaking his head with disapproval.

“Really, Jackson,” he said, crossing his arms over his sleek vest and tie, then pausing to examine his pocket watch. “I think you would agree that in this state… it would be best for you to step down as CEO.”

“Gramps… you…” Jackie raised an arm weakly. Clearly, the three of them had been in on it together. 

“Yes,” Jeroboam said. “Miss Lucille and Miss Shannon. Or… Mister Shannon, as the case temporarily may be, agreed to forego a costly sexual harassment lawsuit, provided they were able to achieve a measure of revenge. Quite a pragmatic and classic solution, and cleaner than taking it to court. Provided you’re willing to place a billion dollars in escrow, to be used for settlements with your other victims, should any come forward.”

“F-fine!” Jackie groaned. “W-what about my-”

“I believe if you do that… we’ll see fit to reinstate you to your prior… position,” the old man finished. “If you still wish for that. Of course, until that time… I have a more fitting task for you.” He smiled and straightened his tie. “You always were a boor and a charlatan, boy. But you may find, in these new… ‘circumstances’... that you have a new chance to shine.”

Lucille stepped forward and leaned over Jackie, presenting her with an ID card, featuring her new female face. It read: “Jacqueline Calvard - Executive Secretary”.

“Welcome to the team, Jackson,” she said. “I think you’ll fit in just fine.” 

 

---

 

Six months later, Jackie’s ass-cheeks wobbled deliciously as she approached the desk of Jeroboam Calvard’s classically decorated office, holding a sterling silver serving tray. She was wearing a french maid’s outfit, as she did most days, and had a cheerful and coquettish expression plastered on her face as she approached.

“Your coffee is here, Mister Calvard!” she chirped, her voice a high-pitched pixie chirp that was by now well-practiced. “Would you like a blowjob this morning?”

Jeroboam looked over the rims of his glasses and pulled them off of his face, fetching a sigh. “Really, Jackson. I’m proud that you’ve taken to your new job… but I’ve never had a secretary who was so eager to take care of my male needs!” Set in his ways, he had not yet gotten out of the habit of referring to Jackie by her former name. 

Jackie set the tray down, giggled, and twirled, showing off her huge tits and massive ass, flipping her skirt up over her hips briefly to show the way her lace thong disappeared. Then she giggled. “I can’t help it, gramps! I’m such a stupid cocksucker! Thanks for giving me this job so I can suck on the cocks of powerful men all day instead of thinking!”

The old man shrugged and sighed, looked at the clock, and then back to Jackie. “Very well,” he said. “But only to sharpen my mind before the merger talks.” Jackie stepped around the desk and slid to her knees, her legs wrapped in thigh-high black socks. She licked her lips as she produced her grandfather’s ten inch penis and started to obediently worship the fat, virile balls of his low hanging sack.

Seconds later, she was groaning with glee and as the old man took a two-handed grip on her head and started to brutally fuck her face. Her hand moved down to her pussy, not for the first time that month or the fiftieth, and started to rub her clit.

She had half a year left in her ‘probationary period’ before permission would be granted to return to her male self. 

If she wanted to change back, that was.

Jackie Calvard, as it turned out, was very happy the way she was.