OFFICE VIGNETTE

By Aborigen

Accounts Receivable was usually a quiet office, no less so on Monday mornings.

From the 24th floor the entire city could be seen on their side of the Demarcant

Enterprises building. The sun was shining overhead, slowly evaporating the mist

that hung around the rooves of the two- and three-storey buildings. Employees

were filing away to their cubicles and answering phone calls, filling out

paperwork, clacking away on their computers, etc.

This was Rod's third week as a temp at Demarcant Information Technologies and he

had no complaints. He hated waking up that early in the morning, and parking was

scarce once he finally got downtown, but otherwise the job was pretty cush.

Casual office, unsupervised monkey-work, decent pay... he could stick it out for

a couple months here, just long enough to find a permanent position somewhere.

He went to his cubicle and fired up his computer, getting the paperwork

straightened out for the day.

Across from him was an aging hippie, Drey. Rod had talked with him a couple

times about music and thrift shopping - he was okay, just a little cranky when

he had to deal with customers. Next to him was Beverly, a rather portly woman

with a bubbly disposition. She was often heard chirping to the other employees

about a newspaper article or a funny client she just got off the phone with.

Across from her, kitty-corner from Rod, was Denisha. She was a responsible,

serious worker who didn't frequently converse with the other workers, though she

would respond if talked to. Sometimes she would crack and laugh at a joke, but

for the most part she seemed intimidated by the office scenario and tried to

present a respectable countenance. Rod didn't know anyone else down his aisle of

cubicles, since people didn't bother to introduce themselves to temps very

often.

Today, Rod just had to catch up on some backlogged paperwork and filing the

other workers had quartered off to him. Menial tasks, but Rob wasn't in the mood

to be stimulated today - the whole weekend had been one big party, and his mind

was rattling with a dull grinding noise currently. He was grateful for an

undramatic, undemanding workload that would leave him to himself for a while.

Denisha was on the phone, Drey had stepped out for a moment; Beverly was

laughing with a client about their account. The news sounded pretty dismal to

Rob, from what little he heard: he had to admire an office grind who could raise

a client's spirits and take it all in stride.

11:30am rolled around and Rod started thinking about what he was going to do for

lunch. Apparently he wasn't the only one, as Drey had gone out for some Chinese

take-out, and the other cubicle-mates were discussing where they'd go for lunch.

The big idea seemed to be a buffet down the street a block. All through the

conversation, however, Denisha kept glancing nervously at Rod. He wondered what

that was about, but didn't say anything.

"I dunno, guys," Beverly said, laughter glowing in her voice, "I'm in the mood

for something sweet! Like, maybe a cookie, or..."

Denisha's eyes widened and she glanced at Rob once again. She said, "Um,

Beverly, I hear the buffet has a pretty sufficient dessert bar. Have you been

there before?"

Rob wondered what this was all about. He heard a drawer open in the cubicle next

to him, and Beverly said, "No, you guys go on ahead. I think I know what I

want!" Denisha looked once more at Rob before turning around to face her

computer and typing furiously at the keyboard, shoulders hunched. Beverly rose

and slowly walked over to Rob's cubicle. He looked up at her curiously, then

glanced over at Drey. Drey was locked in mortal verbal combat with a customer,

oblivious to everything and everyone around him.

Rob turned back to Beverly, who was smiling sunnily at him. Her hair was styled

in sweeping blonde waves around her head, and her eyes were positively lit up

with mirth. "Uh, yeah, can I help you?" Rob asked, his stomach slowly turning

cold.

Far off in an under-mountain laboratory, a couple young interns watched the

whole deal on their remote monitors. One leaned forward, rapt as the situation

unfolded, and the other leaned back in his chair with a bag of nacho chips.

"Is she going to do it?" the excited one asked the more experienced intern. "Is

she going to shrink him right here in the office?"

The other sneered at the rookie. "She's got the clicker, don't she? We wetwired

him two months ago, didn't we? He's all set to go, and she paid good money for

that little clicker."

"How does she know he's wetwired?"

"She don't, 'zactly. She don't know about the whole process altogether, but she

pays a monthly fee for a web account that lets her know who's shrinkable in her

neighborhood."

The newer intern whistled appreciatively. "That's a lot of money, to pay to be

able to do that to people?"

"How do you think we fund this whole dance party, kid? Here, now watch, she's

'bout to do it."

Beverly laughed, and Denisha shuddered behind her. "Why, you sure can,

sweetheart!" she said, holding up a small black disk that looked like a remote

security trigger for a car. "Just smile wide for me!" Her thumb slid forward

slightly, there was a click, and the room around Rod exploded...

Seemed to explode, rather. Everything was still intact, just... larger. The

armrests of his chair blossomed and shot up past his head; the light navy seat

cushion zoomed outward in all directions, knocking his lower legs out from under

him and toppling him backward in the middle of the seat. The desk of the cubicle

seemed like a distant ledge of rock at the Grand Canyon, above his head, and

then the light was blocked out by a very large woman in a tight, black velvet

dress with smoky black leggings. She was large before, Rod thought, but now she

was beyond enormous!

Laughing merrily, her titanic body bent over at the waist and seemed to be

falling down upon him, but she was merely reaching for him. Rod shrieked as her

pudgy hand splayed its fingers and flew at him at tremendous velocity. For a

moment he had the wind knocked out of him as her broad palm squashed him against

the cushion, and then her fat fingers wrapped around him in a body hug. She

brought him up to her face, the voluminous curves straining inside her dress

racing past with delirious speed, and held him before her face, grinning like a

little girl. "Ooh, wook at da precious widdle dumpling!" she cooed, opening her

gaping maw wide and slathering him in her tongue. Again he shrieked, staring

down into the dark, moist chasm of her throat, which twitched in anticipation of

food, and Rod suddenly got the worst images in his mind. However, all she did

was lick him a few times - and now he realized he was completely nude, his

clothes hadn't shrunk with him - and pull him out to beam at him some more. He

couldn't see his coworkers, Beverly's mammoth head blocked out most of his

vision.

"Hey, is dat de new guy?" asked a voice behind Mt. Beverly, and Rod's world spun

crazily as Beverly turned to face the querant. It was Liz, someone else working

further down the aisle of cubicles.

"Why, it certainly is!" Beverly said, sounding proud of herself.

"Isn't he just adorable?" she asked, thrusting Rod towards Liz' face.

Apparently, Beverly had no sense of proportion in handling Rod because every

jerk and twist happened at over 30mph, to him.

Liz smiled broadly. "Oh, he is a cutie. I never really got ta talk ta him b'fore!"

Liz' huge brown eyes slowly rolled over the top half of Rod; the rest of him was

encased in a solid fist the size of a respectable boulder. "Hey, d'you t'ink I

could gedda little shot o' him b'fore you take him away?" she asked sweetly.

Beverly evidently found this hilarious, because her laughter pealed in Rod's

ears like a sudden crack of thunder. "How delightful! You bet, honey! Would you

like to, um... have a seat?" she asked, placing special emphasis upon those last

three words, and Rod felt another stab of terror.

Liz giggled and nodded enthusiastically, and Beverly bent down to place Rod back

in his seat. He could see now that his dress shirt and slacks were spread all

over the seat as if this was his bedroom and he'd undressed in a hurry. Beverly

set him down in the neck of his shirt and he felt a blast of cool air all around

his body as her fist released him and pulled away. Catching his breath, Rod

looked up to see the light blocked out again, and Liz slowly turned around...

Though somewhat shorter than Beverly or himself, when Rod was normal-sized, Liz

was not a small woman. She was short, but she had to be as big around the hips

as she was tall. She wasn't overall overweight, just in the hips and the butt.

Liz was of the generation that grew up in front of a TV with a large variety of

snacks around her at all times. Sitting behind a computer wasn't like watching

the soaps, but it was still sitting down, and it paid for all those bags of

chocolate candies and cans of soda of which she was so fond. As a result, due to

diminished exercise and bloating while in a sitting position, she had a

tremendous ass. Even through the heather grey sweatsuit, the pockmarks of fat

were visible as her tremendous buttocks rumbled and rolled against each other

like twin planets in tumult. Every collision of her heel into the floor set off

another volley of violent quakes across her buttocks, and it wasn't infrequently

that Rod would stare after her in morbid curiosity.

Now, however, he was about to get more of those buttocks than he felt anyone

could handle, as her heather grey, planetary cheeks poised threateningly above

him. Giggling like a demure schoolgirl, Liz glanced at Beverly, who nodded, and

then plumped her rump right down upon the chair.

Words cannot describe the experience. He looked up, the light was completely

blocked out, and two huge, grey spheres grew to impossible dimensions above him.

He could even feel the radiant body heat of these tremendous formations before

they reached him, and then he was smothered. Rod wasn't particularly attracted

to heavy women, and now here were two playing with them, one of whom was

currently perched upon him. It was exactly as he imagined it might be: a broad

sheet of dense fabric pressed heavily upon him, beyond which lay a vast sea of

gelatin. He could move to some degree, wiggling a little bit, raising a forearm

or a knee just slightly, but for the most part the oppressive weight held him

pinned to the chair. He wondered how long this would go on...

The newer intern laughed uproariously. "Oh, damn! Look at him! He's going to

smother beneath her!"

The older intern shook his head slowly. "'Tain't so, young 'un. See, what we got

goin' on with this quantum generator wetware is some kinda mathematical

translation between our reality and his'n. Everything gets translated between

the two perspectives into almost an equivalent format, so the only thing that's

really different is size, and maybe a little physical output."

"What's that supposed to mean? Look at him, he's completely covered in fat ass.

How's he supposed to breathe?"

"That's what I'm telling you," the older intern said with a little irritation.

He understood the process, just not all the technical terms for it. "Look: that

wetware installation shrinks him down, and then it shrinks down most everything

that he encounters, within his personal quantum field. He can breathe, 'cos he's

sucking in differently-sized molecules of air, and he can suck those right

through the fabric. If you put your thumb over his face he'd have to breathe

slower, but he could do it. Hell, if you put him in a glass of water, he could

suck the air out like a fish."

The newer intern nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. "But what if one of those

women steps on him? Will he still get squished, or would her foot shrink down to

his size?"

"Naw, her foot stays the same, but the force of being stepped on will only feel

like a normal-size woman stepping on him. It'd be heavy, but I don't think it'd

break his ribs, less'n he's got a low marrow count or somethin'."

"So he could lift a woman at that size?" asked the newer intern.

"See, now, that's where it gets screwy and I don't get it. Someone explained it

to me, but..." the older intern faltered and shrugged. "No, he can't lift up a

huge woman like that; he'd have to wrestle with a pencil. And if you poked a

carrot at him it wouldn't shrink down, even if he bit a piece off and ate it. I

don't get exactly how it works..."

Eventually the protuberant buttocks above Rod began to rumble. 'Oh God,' he

thought, as the weight fluctuated and pulsed into him, 'she's bouncing.' Sure

enough, Liz thought it'd be funny to press her ass upon him even harder and

started bouncing in the chair. Beverly laughed until she was red in the face -

Denisha clenched her eyes and grimaced, and Drey wondered what the hell was so

funny - as Liz' prodigious buttocks pulse and throbbed in the tiny desk chair.

At great length, Beverly asked Liz to return the tiny man to her, and Liz said

her goodbye by shimmying her hips, wriggling her buttocks around Rod. She rose

from her chair and Beverly broke out into a brand-new fit of laughter: Liz had

managed to work the tiny temp between her cheeks. Rod, stunned, hardly knew

where he was, just somewhere soft, warm, and very comfortable. Beverly gingerly

plucked her little plaything from Liz' ass, provoking more laughter from both of

them, and then excused herself from her aisle-mates to go to lunch. Denisha

couldn't even look back or respond; Drey waved absently behind him in mid-phone

call. Rod was unceremoniously stuffed down Beverly's bra, coming to rest in an

enormous velvet bra cup, with a tremendous mountain of breast quivering against

his body, pressing him irresistably into the bra cup. He felt her massive mitt

pat him on the back as her nipple hardened against his crotch, and then he

assumed the constant, rhythmic heaving of the breast to which he clung

represented Beverly's determined stride off into destiny...

Part 2

Rod listened as well as he could through the layers of Beverly's bra and dress,

trying to discern what was transpiring. He heard the click of the security door

opening, and then a slight 'ding' as an elevator arrived... Her bosom heaved

once as they descended. Rod, resigned to whatever was going on, just went lax

against her breast and tried to make the best of it. Though he never had a thing

for heavy women, there was something about Beverly: maybe it was her sincerely

jovial mood, maybe it was her proud carriage, who knows. She wasn't

unattractive, and for someone as heavy as she was, she pretty much wore it well.

She certainly filled out her black velvet dress today, and she always walked

with her shoulders thrown back as if boldly leaping into the future, or

preparing to get into a fight with someone. He admired strength, and Beverly

seemed indomitable at times.

Her enormous breast heaved against him - Rod was getting slightly ill at the

ponderous rocking and swaying, and burying his face into the wall of flesh

before him assuaged it only a little - and he heard an explosion of conversation

and dinnerware. Apparently she was going to the food court in this building. He

felt her hand rub up against him, as she pretended to adjust her dress for a

moment, couching him and nudging him into her aroused nipple. His hips ground

reflexively against the perky, fleshy pebble, to his surprise, and he heard a

stifled giggle from somewhere far above him. She patted his tiny ass gently and

strode into the food like a huge, lugubrious slug. The tip of her thick, moist

tongue slowly ran around the rim of her lips, which curled upwards in a

dangerous, predatory grin.

Rod started to back up, one foot slipping on a pool of olive oil, his hands

scrabbling for purchase on a broad leaf of romaine lettuce. "Beverly... hey, no,

this is like cannibalism..." he said, a little louder. He wondered if he could

possibly make enough noise for someone else to hear, as his shoulders rubbed up

against a large crouton.

Beverly leaned over her plate, eyes gleaming, as she took a savage thrust at Rod

with her fork. It landed right next to him, and he heard the rending of thick,

vegetative material as it punctured the layers of leaves. Beverly threw her head

back and laughed, and he could see her throat throbbing in her neck, far above

him. "Oh, sweetie! I'm a vegetarian, and human meat is just full of

cholesterol!" He grinned, stroking his thigh with one of the tines of her fork.

"Besides, I plan to have much, much more fun with you than to do away with you

now," she purred. Carefully, she slid one tine up his inner thigh, and Rod was

at once too terrified and fascinated to move. Her red lacquered nails wrapped

around the broad, lengthy handle of the pearlescent white fork, one thick,

piggish thumb bracing it into the grasp of her fingers. She was deft with the

instrument as the blunt tip of the tine nudged insistently into his thigh, then

stroked slow circles around his pubic hair. He grew very self-conscious and

blushed deeply, turning his head to stare at a cherry tomato the size of a large

beach ball. Beverly stared at him, her grin fading as her scrutiny of her

plaything intensified, watching his tiny cock stir, then slowly stand.

Rod, alarmed and embarrassed, tried to curl up and cover himself with his hands.

Beverly grinned, and it was nothing for her to set down her fork and pull his

arms and legs open with her two hands. His hands were completely lost between

the broad, leathery pads of her fingertips, and he tried to look away as she

studied his erection. "What a pretty little thing," she murmured. "I almost

regret shrinking you down..." Releasing him, she sat back in her chair, humming

to herself and picking up the fork again. She stabbed at the lettuce beneath him

and pulled out the huge sheets of green from beneath him. He comically tumbled

from one seasoned leaf to another, and Beverly ate faster so she could do this

little trick again and again, giggling at every gentle spill he took. She

stabbed into a crouton and the noise sounded like a small explosion to him, as

the debris of spiced crumbs peppered his naked body. He shielded his eyes as she

forked it up and popped it in her mouth.

Momentarily, lunch was finished and Beverly dabbed at her mouth with a thick

napkin the size of a bedspread, to Rod. He watched in fascination as she cleaned

herself off, and then her eyes turned to him once more. "The bra again?" he

asked, wondering how she'd like a slick, oil-coated man squirming around against

her breast.

She shook her head slightly, gingerly took him up between thumb and fingers

against his back, and raised him up to her face. He looked around

self-consciously, staring at all the other giants going about their business,

buying food, chatting happily with each other... nobody seemed to notice.

Abruptly, his face was mashed into her thick, squirming tongue. "Ack! Thththpp!"

he spat, echoing down her throat, as her hundreds of ticklish tastebuds rasped

over his chest and shoulders. She pushed him inside her mouth up to his waist,

closing her lips around his hips and suddenly the air pressure in her mouthy

cavern dropped. Her tongue embedded his chest and face and his back rubbed

against the roof of her mouth as she began sucking the oil and seasonings off

his body. He held his breath and hoped it wouldn't last too long, as it was

quite balmy inside her mouth, and besides, he knew her throat was one mere yard

away, and he doubted even a gag reflex could save him if she accidentally sucked

him down. He wrapped his tiny arms around her tongue, and it felt like trying to

embrace an unruly mattress. He could barely get his arms beneath her tongue, and

the living muscle danced and quivered beneath him spasmodically.

At length she extracted him once again, only to pinch his chest between her

fingers and slip his slender little legs into her mouth. This was a much more

vigorous exercise, as she held him face down and rubbed the papillae of her

tongue over his genitalia. He felt her lips tighten around his waist and could

only assume she was grinning at the effect she had on him, as his low moans

doubtlessly reached her ears, and his thighs spread to attempt to clamp around

her tongue. She ground her tongue into his crotch, rubbing it back and forth

very slowly, very deliberately, and he knew he'd never felt a sensation like

this in all of his life. The slick, hot muscle rode up between his legs, even

forcing them wider, and then that special stirring in his loins told him he'd

better lose all concept of self-consciousness or modesty, because this naughty

Beverly was going to have her way with him. The deep bass of her soft laughter

boomed against his legs as her tongue quickened its strokes and his aroused cock

ground into it. Sometimes she'd pull back and poke the blunt, blind tip of her

tongue gently into his balls, or maybe lapping over his ass, but mostly she made

him hump her tongue until his thighs clenched and she tasted the tiny, salty

spurt of his gratification. She sucked on his legs a while longer, letting him

cool down, before pulling him out to rest in her hand.

Rod couldn't even speak. Through puffy, satisfied eyes he espied the mountain of

black-clad goddess before him, grinning beatifically (actually it was a

mischievous grin, but his satiation interpreted it as positively as possible),

and he really felt as if he would do anything for her. Wordlessly, she lowered

him beneath the table and hiked up the skirt of her dress slightly, snaking him

beneath the waistbands of her stockings and panties. Her insistent fingertip

prodding at his ass told him where he should go and, grabbing onto tufts of dark

curly hair, he began to pull himself downward. Satin undergarments slid over his

back, holding him fast against the broad, warm belly of the giantess, and his

head spun crazily with the surreality of this moment; he felt like a crab louse

burrowing deep into the pubic region of some inflicted individual. Gravity

shifted around him and the nylon stretched around her massive thighs began to

rub against each other in a droning buzz, and he guessed she was leaving the

lunch table... but what now? He wondered what else this playful giantess held in

store for him as he crawled on his belly across her mons pubis and down into the

moister, mushy region of her sexuality.

As the underbrush of bushy hair tickled his body, he became immediately aware of

a very pervasive scent, and he was enough of a man of the world to know that

Beverly was truly enjoying this. He dug his tiny toes into her fleshy belly and

pushed himself onward, and his outstretched hands grasped the first fleshy folds

of her labia. The grip was difficult, as she was very liberally moistened, but

he could pull himself along by digging his elbows into the underbrush of hair.

Light only barely seeped into the area through her panties and tights, and his

view was upside-down anyway, but he tried to focus on what he knew of female

genitalia, and out of a delirious curiosity began to seek out her clitoral hood.

Beverly had caught an elevator by this time, smiling very smugly to herself and

nodding tersely at the other occupants, as her tiny boytoy dug through her pubic

hair and burrowed up against her pussy. The other temps had been so shy in the

past, she was glad to have happened to catch one with a sense of imagination, if

not adventure. Folding her arms, she rocked herself gently, humming a tuneless

melody to herself? Once Rob's tiny little hand snuck inside her clitoral hood

and grasped her clit firmly, she shrieked too abruptly to silence herself and

flung out her arms to steady herself against the elevator walls. Immediately,

she had the attention of everyone in that narrow chamber with her; once she

caught her breath, she explained she suffered from drastic vertigo and thought

she felt the elevator shake for a moment. In truth, her knees were close to

buckling and she really clung to the brass handrail in the elevator, lending a

great deal of credence to the story of her condition. The other passengers made

soothing, sympathetic noises and asked if she'd be all right. Flushed and

breathing hard, Beverly assured them she'd be fine, she just needed to get back

in her office and sit down. More than they knew.

Rob laughed to himself, empowered by the reaction this simple little gesture

evoked. He decided to just massage it gently, flattening his palm against the

now protruding little nub of eager, pink flesh, rolling it around in small

circles. If anything, his little nesting ground got warmer, and a few beads of

lubrication seeped out between the vasocongested walls of her vagina, and her

scent welled up around him. It wasn't a delicious scent, and he couldn't exactly

act as if it pleased him, but he was enjoying his effect on her too much to quit

now. He just breathed through his mouth and leaned his head down to slowly run

his tongue along the throbbing, aroused little clit.

Beverly's vision wavered and it was so hard to think... she stumbled up to the

security door and ran her pass over the scanner. The door clicked, she leaned on

it until it opened, and she felt her way down the hall to the women's restroom.

Luck was with her, as all the stalls were empty; she went to the handicapped

stall on the end, so she could lean against the solid, tiled wall without

rattling the entire structure of stalls. Hastily hiking up her dress and yanking

her leggings down to just above her knees, she plunged a plump hand down her

panties and firmly grasped the tiny man servicing her crotch. She wasn't sure

how he was arranged, so she just planted her hand over his entire body and

pressed up into her, to hold him still.

Four huge fingers slid over Rob like a moving vehicle and then her soft leathery

palm mashed him hard into the vestibule of her pussy. His arms spread and

pinioned slightly back, he had to hold his breath before his face was buried

inside the tender, moist folds of sensitive tissue. Somewhere far behind him he

thought he heard Beverly speaking to him in husky, breathy tones, something

about knocking it off. He nodded slowly and held still to demonstrate his good

intentions, and she slowly relieved the pressure on his back, permitting him to

breathe again. (In actuality, he could've inhaled very slowly right through her

skin, but he was unaware of the science behind his condition and habit forced

him to hold his breath.) Copious was her lubrication, and treacherous was any

position he tried to wedge himself into. More light shone through the fabric

now, and Beverly's legs stopped moving. He wondered what was going on with her,

when suddenly her palm withdrew, sliding roughly over his bare ass, and then two

thick fingers forced themselves between his legs, pushing their way beneath his

body and... He realized she had to be in the bathroom, as two, thick fingertips

ground savagely into her clit in frenzied little circles. Her breathing echoed

off the tiled wall, and he clung to her fingers like a bucking bronco as she

whipped herself up into a frenzy.

Suddenly she got a better idea, slid her fingers out from under Rod, and then

started to nudge into his shoulders brusquely. He nearly had his arms broken,

but some quick thinking drew them in up against his chest, and by sheer force

she thrust his head and shoulders into the narrow, clenching entry of her

vagina. It was a very tight fit for him: his upper arms were pinned to his sides

and he was surrounded in darkness. With half his body dangling out of her

vagina, she released him and went back to rubbing at her distended clitoris.

Rod managed to sneak his arms out - doused in lubrication as he was - and groped

blindly forward in the velvety darkness that hugged and squeezed at him. The

action of her clenching rose as her fingers violently thrust over her clit:

doubtlessly they were short little jabs to her, but he believed she could

shatter his hips if she overshot even an inch, to her. He started to dig his

tiny fingers into the tender lining of her vaginal canal, pulling himself up

inside her. The flowing juices made this easier, and he cinched himself up to

his hips. The thrusting outside by his thighs increased in vigor and one of her

polished fingernails accidentally brushed one of his legs. Panicked, he started

to scrabble for any kind of a handhold and managed to pull his pelvis in.

Beverly was moaning loudly now, hoping that no one needed to come into the

restroom. Her climax was approaching rapidly and she ran to meet it. The tiny

little temp in her pussy was doing his part, stimulating her with amazing things

inside her vaginal passage, squirming around as if swimming inside her. She bore

down on her clit even more ruthlessly, trying to finish this off, as the blood

rushed to her face and her vision wavered.

By way of "sitting up," Rod was able to pull one leg in, and then the other.

Completely entombed in the darkness, in her vagina, suddenly he realized that he

oughtn't be able to breathe, and yet he was able to take slow lungfuls in quite

handily. Pushing his bizarre curiousity to the limits, he slowly started to

enter her further, "standing up" along the length of her vagina and reaching

further upwards into the darkness, as her lubrication slathered his body and

slid him along like a snake...

When she finally climaxed, it was a traumatic experience for everyone involved.

Beverly's knees almost gave out and she had to sit roughly down upon the toilet;

Rob was crushed and pinned and squeezed in every direction, yet somehow survived

without more than a bruise on his shoulders and hips. Her greedy pussy clenched

and sucked at him, holding him inside tightly, and he wasn't able to do more

than brace himself against one side of her vagina and push against the other.

This heightened her orgasm and triggered a second and a third, exhausting them

both, but ultimately forming into a rewarding experience.

After straightening out her dress and splashing a little water on her face for a

refresher, Beverly composed herself (mostly) and strode back to her cubicle,

looking for all the world like the cat that got the canary. Drey nodded vaguely

at her and returned to yelling at a customer, and Denisha looked seriously

anguished, excusing herself for a moment.

Liz, consumed with curiosity, poked her head around the corner. "Well?" she

asked. "Where is he? He do awright for you?"

Beverly, shifting in her seat and giving her tiny man an affectionate vulvic

clench, said, "He'll do just fine. You guys'll need to hire another temp,

however."

Liz laughed. "Dass da t'ird one dis month, Bevy! Ol' Company Staff, Inc.'s gonna

wonder why all their guys keep quitting and nevvah reportin' in agin!"

Beverly merely shrugged, looking off innocently at the ceiling. She felt little

remorse for the confusion she caused her company, just a pleasant warm afterglow

and a tinge of anticipation for the future. Rod, for his part, immediately

knocked off and was snoring loudly, deep within her vaginal folds; evidently he

was reconciled with his new position and its inherent responsibilities, for as

long as it lasted.

END

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Giantess Stories: OFFICE VIGNETTE By Aborigen   Accounts Receivable was usually a quiet office

Accounts Receivable was usually a quiet office, no less so on Monday mornings. By Aborigen By Aborigen OFFICE VIGNETTE OFFICE VIGNETTE

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2021-08-01

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