Chapter Two

Rikki stirred beneath the soft weight of her duvet and let out a quiet sigh as her consciousness returned. Her body felt pleasantly heavy, the kind of languid soreness that came after a long, indulgent night of sleep. She stretched her arms above her head and allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She hadn’t slept like that for a long time, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly normal.

Then her gaze drifted to the digital clock on the bedside table. The red numbers glowed 10:17 a.m. Rikki blinked once, certain she had misread the display. The brunette had never slept past seven in her adult life, let alone past ten. A flicker of unease stirred in the woman’s chest, but she pushed it aside and reached for her phone beside the clock. The screen lit up beneath her touch, and the date beneath the time stopped her heart cold.

November 22nd.

Rikki sat up slowly, and the duvet clung to her chest as the full weight of realisation crashed over her. Where the hell did the time go? The last thing she remembered with absolute clarity was the start of September, the bitter taste of that intern’s release still lingering on her tongue while she knelt in her office, the bold red lipstick smeared across her mouth like evidence of a crime. Three entire months had disappeared from the young woman’s memory.

Rikki’s breath came faster as she swiped open her email app with shaking fingers. One doesn’t simply lose track of three months of their life. She needed to check her work email to ensure she still had a job to go back to. Hundreds of unread messages flooded the screen. She scrolled frantically to the last date she remembered, her pulse pounding in her ears, until one subject line made her freeze.

From: Heidi Kraft, Chief Executive Officer

Subject: Approval of Your Medical Leave Request

Date: September 14th, 2025

The message was brief and supportive. Heidi wrote that she fully understood Rikki’s need for time away, praised her years of dedication and perfect attendance record to date, and confirmed that paid medical leave had been granted, for as long as Rikki required.

The Senior Political Editor stared at the words until they blurred. She had never requested medical leave. The young woman had never taken a single sick day, and she had no surgeries or medical procedures lined up that she could remember. Why the hell had that ‘request’ been granted? Rikki’s stomach twisted as she scrolled back up, searching for anything that might explain the impossible gap in her life or this unexplained medical leave.

Another email waited near the top, sent only yesterday.

From: Daniel Newsom, Chief Executive Officer

Subject: Your Return From Leave

Date: November 21st, 2025

Daniel introduced himself as the new CEO, explained that Heidi had retired unexpectedly, and expressed how much the team had missed Rikki’s leadership. He wrote that he hoped her recovery had gone well and that he eagerly anticipated meeting her in person when she returned to the office today.

Rikki dropped the phone onto the mattress as though it had burned her skin. None of this made any sense. Heidi had retired? The company installed Ms Kraft into the position after a string of disgraceful PR nightmares involving the firm’s male leadership team, and she was a woman Rikki looked up to immensely. Heidi had installed Rikki in her current role and provided the support she needed to run a successful department. The idea that the board would install a male chief executive after the progress they had made for the feminist magazine felt like a huge step back, and it made no sense to the political editor.

Rikki absently pulled her duvet lower, intending to swing her legs out of the bed and pace until she forced some clarity from the chaos swirling in her mind. The heavy fabric caught on something unfamiliar and resisted for a moment before sliding down her torso. The brunette glanced down at her body and every thought in her head ground to a violent halt. No! She thought to herself. She must be dreaming, must be locked in a vicious nightmare.

Two enormous, perfectly rounded breasts dominated her chest, high and impossibly firm, the skin stretched smooth and taut over obvious saline implants that had to be F-cup or larger. Thin pink scars curved beneath each one, still fresh enough to suggest the surgery had happened only weeks ago. They sat proudly and exposed on her ribcage, nipples already stiffened into tight peaks from the cool air brushing them.

The unexplained medical leave suddenly made horrifying sense.

Rikki’s hands rose slowly until her palms settled beneath the heavy curves. She lifted them slightly, testing the impossible weight that now pulled at her chest with every breath. This couldn’t be her. She didn’t just have enhanced breasts; she had porn star-calibre breasts. The flesh filled her hands completely, soft and firm at the same time, the plastic shifting beneath the skin in a way that felt utterly alien.

The political editor’s thumb brushed across the stiff nipple without meaning to, and her entire body shuddered violently. Pleasure exploded through the young woman like a current, sharp and immediate, racing from her chest straight to the aching spot between her thighs. Rikki gasped, her full lips parting in shock as the sensation made her hips twitch involuntarily. The peaks tightened further under the accidental caress, begging for more attention.

She went to move her hands away, to push her fingers as far away from the monstrous additions to her chest as humanly possible. However, her fingers suddenly refused to obey. Instead, they curled possessively around the swollen globes, kneading the overfilled flesh with slow, deliberate pressure, entirely out of the dark-haired woman’s control.

Rikki’s eyes widened in pure terror as her memories flooded back. She remembered the restaurant, the way her body had marched past her fiancé, Kyle, and flirted with that disgusting stranger. She remembered the cruel words that spilt from her own mouth as she ended her engagement in the most humiliating way possible, kissing Tommy while her partner watched in despair. She remembered the next morning, crawling back to her office only to find herself on her knees again, sucking the cock of the misogynistic intern she had just fired, reinstating him with her mouth full of his release.

Something had controlled her body then, forcing her to betray everything she believed in. That same force had clearly stolen three months of her life, wiped her memory clean, and was the architect of her current predicament. These monstrosities bolted to her chest were its work, and she had no idea how she could fix it.

Her hands squeezed harder, her thumbs circling the sensitive tips until sparks of pleasure shot through every cell in her body again and again. Rikki’s back arched off the mattress, a helpless moan escaping her throat as her thighs pressed together, seeking friction she despised needing. The nipples throbbed under her touch, swollen and aching, sending waves of heat down her spine with every pinch and roll.

She hated how good it felt. The feminist hated the slick warmth building between her legs, the way her pussy clenched in desperate rhythm with each caress. Her mind screamed for her hands to stop, to leave the fake tits alone, but they only grew bolder, lifting and squeezing, teasing the peaks until her breath came in shallow pants.

An orgasm built fast and fierce, coiling tight in her belly from nothing more than the constant stimulation of her new breasts. Rikki’s hips lifted off the bed, chasing the release her body suddenly craved even as her mind recoiled in shame. She was seconds away, teetering on the edge, when her hands suddenly froze.

Every finger locked in place, leaving the brunette’s breasts throbbing and untouched, the climax hanging just out of reach. Suddenly, a rich, masculine chuckle echoed through the woman’s skull.

“Not yet, princess,” the voice, Viz, purred, his tone dark and satisfied. “You come when I say you come. And right now, you have a video to make for all those loyal followers who have been missing their fearless leader.”

Rikki’s body sat upright, the heavy new breasts shifting high on her chest with the motion, pulling deliciously at her skin as her legs swung over the edge of the bed. She fought with everything she had, trying to force herself back under the covers and regain some semblance of control. However, her muscles ignored her every command.

The young woman was a TikTok star in feminist circles. She had been known for having public spats with prominent ‘manosphere’ influencers. She had been ridiculed in conservative circles and lauded as a role model in the liberal, feminist world. She had close to a million followers, and she dreaded to think about what they thought of her now that she had these huge assets on her chest, especially after her video six months ago ridiculing the new cosmetic surgery fad that had consumed the country.

Rikki’s bare feet touched the cold floor, and she stood, the weight of her chest making her wobble for a moment as her body steadied itself against the unnatural extra weight. The silk robe hanging on the chair beckoned, and her arms reached for it without her permission, sliding the fabric over her shoulders. The robe gaped open immediately, showing off the obscene swell of her enhanced chest as she stood.

Viz’s voice followed her as her legs carried the brunette to the walk-in closet. “Let’s pick an outfit that shows off your new figure, shall we, doll?” he murmured in amusement. “Your fans should be able to see the new you as you speak to them.”

Rikki’s mind screamed in futile protest, but her body stepped into the closet, her fingers already reaching for the garment Viz had chosen without her permission.

❖

Rikki’s body carried her down the hallway with confident strides that belied the horror on her made-up face, the heavy sway of her new breasts pulling at her chest with every step. She fought the motion, willing her legs to turn back toward the bedroom, to lock the door and hide from whatever humiliation awaited her. The brunette’s muscles ignored every plea, marching her straight to the spare room she had converted into a professional filming studio months ago.

The door opened under her hand, and she stepped inside. The space was bright and organized, the ring light standing ready beside the white desk, the camera mounted on its tripod, pointed at the comfortable chair behind it. Soft pastel backdrops hung neatly on the wall, creating a space she was proud of.

The feminist’s body moved to the chair and sat, the motion forcing her enhanced chest forward so the swollen curves pressed tight against the thin fabric of the red tube top the alien voice in her mind had chosen. The material stretched obscenely across the massive implants, barely containing the rounded globes, the lower curve of each breast exposed beneath the hem that stopped just beneath her ribcage. Her flat stomach remained on full display, smooth and tanned, rarely ever seen by her viewers, drawing the eye downward to where the low-rise jeans hugged her hips. White sneakers completed the casual look, though the camera would only capture her from the waist up.

Her face had already been made up under Viz’s command while she stood helpless in the bathroom mirror. Long, fluttering false eyelashes framed her brown eyes, making every blink look enticing and flirtatious. Bold red lipstick coated her full lips in a thick, glossy layer, the shade demanding attention, turning her mouth into the focal point of seduction she had always avoided. It was the same lipstick that had started this nightmarish ordeal, and Rikki couldn’t stop herself from applying it again.

Rikki’s hand reached for the small black remote resting on the corner of the desk. She watched in helpless anger and despair as her fingers pressed buttons, dimming the ring light slightly before tilting the camera downward a fraction, ensuring the frame captured the full swell of her new chest while keeping her face perfectly centered. The adjustments were precise, professional, the kind she made hundreds of times before. Only now they served a purpose of humiliation.

Her other hand moved to the slim tablet lying on the desk, tapping the screen to wake the teleprompter app. Words appeared in large, clear text on the machine beside the camera, waiting for the brunette to speak. Rikki’s stomach turned as she recognized none of the words. She had never written this script. She had never even thought these thoughts.

Viz’s voice suddenly filled the room, as though his presence was everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Let’s film a coming-out video for your fans. Make sure you read the script exactly as you wrote it. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

Rikki’s thumb pressed the record button on the remote, and the small red light on the camera blinked to life. Her body adjusted the camera's angle one final time, zooming in tight on her face so that only her made-up features filled the frame. The long lashes fluttered as her eyes met the lens, and her bright red lips curved into a warm, appreciative smile her followers knew so well.

“Hello, my beautiful community,” her voice began, bright and sincere, as she read automatically from the prompter. “I want to start by thanking every single one of you for the incredible outpouring of love and support you sent while I was away. Your messages touched me deeply, and they reminded me why I do this work every day.”

Rikki’s mind recoiled. While those words were valid, it felt like a betrayal as she recited the script she didn’t write. She had no idea which direction her speech would take, but recent events told her to not expect anything less than a degrading performance.

“For too long,” her voice continued passionately, “women have been forced to downplay their appearance, to shrink themselves, to avoid the male gaze at all costs. We have hidden our beauty, muted our features, and denied ourselves the joy of feeling truly special, all because we feared how men may react.”

The brunette’s head tilted slightly, a gesture she often used when making an important point, drawing the viewer in.

“But I am here to tell you that we should no longer live in fear of the male gaze. The male gaze only has power if we give it power. Makeup enhances a woman’s natural beauty for herself, boosting her confidence and allowing her to walk into any room with her head held high, knowing she looks incredible. When we wear eye-popping lipstick or fluttering lashes because it makes us feel powerful, that’s feminism in action.”

Inside, Rikki was screaming in horror at the betrayal of every value she held sacred, but her face radiated conviction, lips glossy and inviting as they formed each twisted word. She had always been militant in her insistence that women didn’t need makeup to hide their features, and now she was espousing the opposite, whilst masquerading it as a feminist thought.

“We must reclaim our image,” the senior leader declared firmly, “We decide what makes us feel sexy and strong. No man gets to dictate how we present ourselves to the world just because they can’t control themselves around us.”

Rikki’s hand reached for the remote again, and the camera zoomed out smoothly, revealing her whole upper body behind the desk. The red top strained across her massive new breasts, the thin fabric clinging to every exaggerated curve, nipples prominently outlined beneath the material. The swell rose and fell with each breath, totally impossible to ignore.

“That is why I made the choice to augment my breasts,” her voice announced proudly, without a hint of hesitation. “I did this for me, because it makes me feel confident, sensual, and completely in control of my own body. Cosmetic surgery, when a woman chooses it freely and for her own reasons, is one of the most empowering tools we have.”

The brunette’s hands lifted without permission, cupping the undersides of her swollen globes and lifting them slightly for the camera, letting the weight settle heavily in her palms. The motion sent a wave of unwanted pleasure through her sensitive flesh, compounding the subtle pleasure from earlier that hadn’t subsided entirely yet.

“These are my breasts,” her voice stated with fierce ownership. “I chose their size and shape because they make me feel incredible. No man told me to do this. No man pressured me, and that is what makes this a powerful statement. This was my decision, for my confidence, for my own power.”

Her fingers traced the upper curve lightly, the touch making her nipples tighten visibly beneath the red fabric, but her expression remained one of triumphant liberation.

“I want every woman watching to know that you own your own body,” her voice concluded. “If enhancements make you feel the most powerful version of yourself, embrace it without shame. We support each other, we lift each other up, and we refuse to let those manosphere bros define our beauty.”

Rikki’s hand pressed the button to stop recording, and the red light blinked off. She gasped in horror at what she had just recorded. It was only six months ago that the woman had posted a viral video arguing the opposite point, and here she was telling her followers that they could sluttify themselves if it made them feel sexy.

The brunette’s body leaned back in the chair, her chest still thrust forward. Her fingers moved to the laptop on the opposite end of the desk. They uploaded the file with mechanical efficiency, selecting a thumbnail that perfectly showcased her heavily made-up face and plump lips. The video was posted.

Viz’s satisfied chuckle filled the helpless, busty woman’s mind once more. “Well done, princess. Your followers are going to love your new message.” There was a tense pause for a moment before the voice returned. “It’s almost midday, and you’re expected back at work today. I think it’s time to show your face and introduce yourself to the new boss.”

Rikki’s body refused to grant her even a moment of rest. The chair rolled back smoothly as her legs pushed her to her feet. She tried to fight the out-of-body sensation of her limbs moving on their own, but her muscles locked in defiance. The brunette’s arms dropped to her sides, and her feet carried her toward the studio door with the same confident stride that brought her here. The tube top clung to her new, sensitive assets as she moved, the denim jeans riding low on her hips while the sneakers padded softly against the floor. She walked out of the room without a backward glance, leaving the camera and the posted video behind her as her body prepared for an afternoon of shame at work.

❖

Rikki stepped through the revolving glass doors into the lobby of the Vogue Femme building and felt every eye in the space turn toward her. She finally had complete control of her body, yet the outfit and makeup that adorned her were unmistakably not her own choices.

The light blue tight silk blouse clung to her newly enhanced breasts, the top two buttons completely missing, helping to reveal a general swell of cleavage she never had before. The long gray pencil skirt looked modest at first glance as it reached down near the brunette’s ankles. However, the cut of the skirt ensured the fabric hugged Rikki’s ass tightly and showed off the total curve of her rear. Four-inch heels with red soles clicked against the marble floor, lifting her posture as she tottered forward. Those same bright red lips and long, fluttering eyelashes that she wore during her video recording continued to dominate the woman’s face. Rikki stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the constant stares at her changed physique.

Rikki kept her gaze fixed on the elevator bank ahead, refusing to acknowledge the whispers that trailed her like smoke. A group of junior fashion writers near the security desk fell silent as she passed, their conversation dying as their eyes judgmentally traced the exaggerated swell straining against the silk blouse. One of them, a young gay man she recognized from editorial meetings, stood with his mouth agape as he chuckled and chattered into his colleague’s ear.

She pressed the call button and waited, her arms folded beneath her chest in a futile attempt to minimize their prominence. The motion only lifted the heavy implants higher, forcing the blouse to gape further and expose more of the smooth curves beneath. Rikki dropped her arms quickly when she caught a slimy janitor glancing her way.

The elevator arrived empty, and the senior political editor stepped inside, grateful for the brief moment of solitude. The doors closed, sealing out the lobby stares, and she caught her reflection in the mirror walls. The glossy red lipstick shone under the lights, her lips fuller and more demanding than she had ever allowed. Rikki was always self-conscious of her naturally larger-than-normal lips and the effect they had around men, and she had always coated them in muted, underwhelming colors to tone down her sex appeal, at least, she used to until that sadistic voice appeared in her head. Combined with the blouse that barely contained her new assets and the skirt that molded to every curve of her ass, the woman staring back at the businesswoman looked like an intruder wearing her face.

The elevator opened on her floor, and Rikki stepped out into the bullpen. The slight clattering of chatter suddenly hushed as she walked out. Two interns by the printer froze mid-task, their eyes locking on her chest before flicking up to Rikki’s face in guilty realization. She scowled harshly at them, and the two young men scattered before they felt her wrath.

Rikki continued down the corridor toward her office suite. The heavy sway of her enhanced breasts tugged at her with every stride, but the young brunette kept her head held high and her expression stern. She refused to let anyone believe she was in any discomfort. Rikki Reynolds was known for taking control of the situation, and she had no intention of destroying that reputation.

As she passed a row of cubicles, her gaze caught on a door that stood empty for months. The frosted glass door now bore a crisp nameplate in bold letters: Liam Manning - Political Journalist.

Rikki’s eyes widened as she stopped dead in her tracks. Three months ago, Liam had been a lowly intern on the verge of dismissal for his blatant misogyny. Now he occupied a private office on her floor, one that was reserved for senior staff members. The woman pushed the door open without knocking and stepped inside.

Liam was sitting at the desk, and his eyes glanced up in alarm as his door opened. However, his posture was far more relaxed and confident than Rikki remembered it being when she scolded him and almost fired him not so long ago. What the hell had changed? A slow smile spread across the man’s face as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing casually while his eyes traveled deliberately over his boss’s curves.

“Ms. Reynolds,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying an easy assurance that grated against her nerves. “It’s good to see you back. We’ve all been looking forward to working with you again.”

Rikki closed the door behind her with an angry shove and crossed her arms beneath her chest. She fixed him with a glare that would have seen the old Liam mess his pants. “What exactly are you doing in this office, Liam?” she asked impatiently.

Liam’s smile widened as he gestured around the modest but private space. “There have been quite a few changes since you were on medical leave, Ma’am,” he said eagerly. “The new CEO really liked my work and decided I was ready for more responsibility. He promoted me to Political Journalist and gave me this office.”

The former intern paused deliberately, letting his gaze linger on the deep cleavage created by the brunette’s crossed arms before meeting her eyes again. “I have to say, I love the new look,” he added confidently. “Do you remember those performance reviews we talked about last time? I’m definitely looking forward to more of them.”

Rikki felt heat flood her face, a mix of rage and humiliation surging through her. What the hell had happened to her department while she was away? She slammed her hands on the man’s desk, startling him suddenly. “Listen here,” she raised her voice. “I’m the boss around here, and I won’t have some little chauvinistic twerp disrespect my team or me. Do you understand? One misstep from you, and your ass is gone!”

Liam leaned back further in his chair, trying to look unfazed by the outburst. “I understand completely, Ms. Reynolds,” he replied calmly. “I would never dream of disrespecting you. In fact, I am grateful for the opportunity you gave me back then. I have worked hard to earn this position, and I intend to keep proving myself.”

The calm and collected response was too much for the busty woman to handle, and she turned on her heel before storming out of the young man’s office. The corridor felt longer as she walked toward her own private space, the click of her Louboutin heels echoing her frustration.

Rikki’s personal assistant, Charisma, sat at the desk outside her boss’s office, typing rapidly until her boss approached. The assistant smiled warmly as she noticed her boss heading toward her, until the transformation became fully apparent, and the blonde’s eyes widened. The enhanced breasts, the bold makeup, the tight top—all of it registered in Charisma’s wide eyes.

Rikki stopped in front of the desk and fixed her assistant with a sharp stare before the young woman could speak. “Don’t,” she said firmly, the single word cutting through the air like a stark warning.

Charisma closed her mouth immediately, nodding once as she fought the urge to question her boss’s new appearance after her three-month hiatus. She returned her gaze to the screen without another word.

Rikki marched into her office with anger burning in her chest, the door slamming shut behind her hard enough to rattle the frame. Her life had begun to unravel at a progressive pace, and she had no idea how to stop it, nor how to rid herself of the voice in her head. The dark-haired woman dropped into her chair and leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, hands pressing against her temples as she tried to process the impossible changes that had overtaken her in a single morning.

❖

Rikki stepped out of the elevator onto the executive floor at exactly 2:58 p.m. and made her way toward the huge corner office that had once belonged to her mentor, Heidi Kraft.

She had spent the last hour in her own office preparing notes, reviewing her departmental reports, and rehearsing the points she intended to make. She heard the company had hired Mr. Newsom as they wanted to move in a new direction, and the young senior political editor wanted to make it clear that her mission hadn’t changed.

The assistant outside the CEO’s suite looked up and offered a polite smile. “Mr. Newsom is expecting you, Ms. Reynolds. Please go right in.”

Rikki nodded her thanks and pushed open the office door steadily before entering to meet her new leader for the first time.

Daniel Newsom stood behind a wide glass desk, tall and broad-shouldered, in a charcoal-gray suit that fit his frame perfectly. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, with neatly trimmed dark gray hair, a slightly receding hairline, and sharp green eyes that locked on her the moment she entered. He stood up and came around the desk, extending a hand and a warm, confident smile.

“Rikki, welcome back,” he said, his voice deep and smooth as he shook her hand firmly, an act of attempted dominance that Rikki had seen a hundred times before. “I have heard nothing but outstanding things about you. My predecessor thought extremely highly of you. Please, take a seat.”

The busty woman released his hand and sat in one of the leather chairs opposite the desk. Her eyes widened as she dropped further than she expected, the chair’s height and shape positioned to force her back arched, and to ensure she was looking up at the man once he was seated back in his chair. It was yet another subtle power play.

Daniel returned to his seat behind the desk and leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the glass surface almost playfully. His gaze remained steady on her face. “I wanted this meeting to be our first chance to align on the magazine’s future,” he began. “Heidi spoke very highly of your contributions, and your track record speaks for itself. The political section has grown significantly under your leadership.”

Rikki felt a measure of relief at his words. She straightened as much as the chair allowed and met his eyes directly. “Thank you, Mr. Newsom. I appreciate that. My team and I have worked hard to build credible, impactful coverage that resonates with our readers. A recent poll named us as the third largest outlet where women choose to read their political news.”

Daniel nodded appreciatively, his fingers drumming lightly on the desk as he considered her statement. “That is an impressive achievement, and one we should build upon. The board has asked me to broaden our appeal, and I have commissioned a review into every aspect of our magazine, including the political news segment. There have been complaints that your coverage skews too much to the left, and I would like us to consider creating a platform that offers both sides of the argument.”

The young woman’s eyes widened as she tried to make herself comfortable on the chair. “Both sides?” she asked. “Sir, with all due respect, the truth doesn’t have a political preference. We write the truth as we see it, and if that appeals to women and liberals more, that is just how it is.”

The CEO leaned back in his chair, his green eyes studying his subordinate with quiet interest. “I understand your perspective, Rikki, and I respect the position behind it. However, the magazine must evolve if we are to remain competitive. Readers today want balance, even if the truth sometimes leans one way. Presenting multiple viewpoints will only strengthen our credibility in the long run.”

Rikki gasped. Presenting multiple viewpoints? She was the political editor of a female empowerment magazine, not the New York Times. There was no reason to add a new perspective to her coverage and jeopardize everything they’ve built. She opened her mouth to counter, ready to defend the integrity of her department with the arguments she had prepared. She had statistics, reader feedback, and circulation growth to back her position.

However, that sadistic voice, echoing in her mind, returned at the most inopportune time, his tone lazy and amused. “Hmm, this is getting rather boring, princess. Perhaps we should liven things up a bit.”

The brunette’s body immediately shifted before she could stop it. She uncrossed her legs slowly before recrossing them again in the opposite direction in a deliberate, flirtatious manner. The motion drew Daniel’s gaze downward for a fraction of a second, long enough for her to notice.

Rikki’s shoulders rolled back, thrusting her new assets forward so the silk blouse pulled tighter across the swollen curves. She leaned in slightly, the position offering a clearer view down the gaping neckline. “I completely understand the need to evolve,” her voice said, softer now, warmer, with a subtly playful lilt she didn’t intend. “And I am always open to exploring new ways to connect with readers.”

Her fingers lifted to brush a strand of dark hair behind her ear, the gesture slow and deliberate, drawing attention to her neck and the way the blouse tugged with its new weight.

Daniel’s eyes followed the motion, his eyes wide in confusion as his senior political editor’s demeanor changed in an instant. His puzzled expression gave way to a wide smile as a spark of interest flickered across his face. “That is exactly the attitude I hoped for,” the man replied. “Flexibility is the key in leadership. I believe we will work very well together.”

Rikki’s body leaned forward a fraction more, her obscene breasts threatening to expose themselves if she moved any further. Her glossy red lips curved into a small, disarming smile that made her stomach churn with disgust. “I would love to hear more about your vision for the magazine,” her voice purred. “I am sure a man with your experience has so many exciting ideas to share.” The way she paused as her eyes drifted down to the man’s pants when she lingered on the word ‘experience’ made her feel sick, and stirred a measure of excitement in Daniel’s groin.

The older CEO’s dropped openly to the exposed swell of her tits before returning to her face, his smile widening with clear interest. “I do have several ideas,” he replied. “And I think you and I could explore them together in great detail.”

The political editor heard herself giggle, actually giggle, at his response. Her fingers lightly traced the edge of her blouse as her mind fought to regain control. Suddenly, she broke through the mental block and took complete control of her actions. She pulled her hands down, tried to straighten up as best she could, and changed the direction of the conversation.

“There is one thing I wanted to discuss with you, sir,” Rikki said, her voice steady for the first time since Viz’s interruption. “I’ve discovered Liam Manning has been promoted to Political Journalist and given an office on my floor. Three months ago, he was an intern, and I was on the verge of firing him for inappropriate behavior. Can you explain how that decision was made in my absence?”

Daniel leaned back, his expression thoughtful but unapologetic. “Liam caught my attention during your leave,” he replied. “His writing showed real potential, and I believe in nurturing talent. He can certainly help us create that balanced perspective I was talking about. He is one for the future.”

Rikki’s eyes widened, and she clenched her hands into fists. “Balanced perspective?” she retorted in disgust. “Sir, from what I have seen from him in the brief time I’ve known him, he is arrogant and has no place in an organization such as ours.”

The older man raised a hand calmly, his smile never fading as he interrupted her protest. “Liam is a rough diamond for sure, Rikki,” he said firmly. “He has raw talent that needs polishing, and I want you to mentor him closely. Guide him, develop him, and help him reach the potential I see in him.”

The young woman opened her mouth to object, to argue that the young man was unsuitable in her carefully curated environment and that forcing her to work closely with him risked undermining her authority. The words formed in her mind, but her body betrayed her once more. Her lips pressed together in silence, and she found herself nodding slowly, her expression softening into one of reluctant acceptance.

“I will do my best if that is what you wish,” her voice said pleasantly, the words emerging with a cooperative tone that made her stomach twist in revulsion.

Daniel’s smile widened with satisfaction as he stood and extended his hand across the desk. Rikki’s body rose gracefully as she shook her boss’s hand. She gave him a playful smile before turning to head out of his office. She entered this meeting determined to reassert her authority, but left it feeling dirty and defeated. She needed to get that damn voice out of her head before it destroyed her life.

❖

Rikki reached forward and pressed the power button on her monitor at the end of the workday, watching the screen fade to black. She leaned back in her chair for a moment, letting the quiet of the empty office settle around her. The day had been long and embarrassing, but essentially normal in its rhythm. The brunette’s staff had responded to her instructions with the same eagerness they always had, jumping at the opportunity to impress her whenever they could. Meetings had run on schedule, and the political team had delivered updates that showed progress on upcoming features.

Yet beneath the surface of that familiar routine, something had felt irrevocably altered. Every conversation carried an undercurrent she couldn’t ignore. Male colleagues lingered a fraction longer when they addressed her, their eyes dipping to the new curves straining against the tight blouse before snapping back to her heavily made-up face. She couldn’t help but notice how their stares at her bright lips prompted them to lose their train of thought countless times. She had walked in on an intern watching the ‘feminist’ video she had posted to TikTok earlier, her breasts practically on full display, but she couldn’t exactly reprimand him. She had previously encouraged her team to view her videos and accept her message, and she couldn’t be seen as a hypocrite now.

Rikki stood up from her desk and slung a designer bag over her shoulder. She wanted nothing more than to escape to her apartment, to strip off the restrictive clothing, to wrap herself in the baggiest sweatshirt she owned, and hide her busty curves from the world. A long bath, a bottle of wine, and the silence of her own space sounded like salvation after the constant awareness of eyes on her body all day.

She walked toward the door with purposeful strides, her hand reaching for the handle as freedom waited just beyond the office walls. Her fingers closed around the cool metal, ready to turn it, when her arm froze in place. “Not again!” she screamed out to no one in particular as her body locked in a paused motion.

Viz’s voice rolled through her mind, filling the office space. “Going home already, princess?” he teased. “I promised you that I’d help find you a new love of your life after Kyle turned out to be unappreciative of your feminine charm. We cannot have you wasting a perfectly good evening buried under baggy clothes in your own apartment, can we?”

Rikki’s heart pounded violently as her body released the door handle and turned away from the exit without her consent. She tried to force her legs to carry her back, but her muscles remained locked under the unknown voice’s command. Her feet carried her across the office instead, the click of her heels echoing in the space as she approached the tall filing cabinet tucked in the far corner.

The cabinet was unused, but Rikki had kept it there because it fit the office's style well. Confusion rang in her mind as her hand reached out to pull the top drawer. Weirdly, the tug activated a hydraulic mechanism that pulled the cabinet out, making it larger and taller before opening like a cupboard. Suddenly, the brunette was greeted with rows of hanging garments, none of which she had seen before or had any intention of wearing. Crop tops designed to expose underboob. Minidresses with necklines plunging to the navel. Skirts so shirt they would reveal everything with the slightest bend. Lacy lingerie in provocative cuts. Towering platform heels in glittering shades. Somehow, she had a stripper’s closet tucked away in her private office.

The busty editor stared at the revealed wardrobe in stunned silence, her mind reeling at the sheer volume of trashy clothing that filled the space. Bright pinks and reds dominated the hangers, fabrics shiny and clinging, designed to mold to a woman’s curves and leave little to the imagination. She recognized the style immediately—garments meant for nights out in clubs, for bodies on display, for women who wanted every eye in the room on them.

The brunette’s hand moved forward without permission, her fingers brushing across a tiny silver dress that shimmered as it moved. The material felt cool and slippery, cut so low in front that it would barely contain her new breasts and so short that bending over would expose everything beneath.

Viz’s voice returned playfully. “Do you like your new office wardrobe? So many delicious options in here, princess. The silver one would make those gorgeous tits you’re so proud of sparkle under the lights, or perhaps the black latex that shows off that horny body of yours. Which one shall we choose for your big night out?”

Rikki shook her head furiously, but her body remained rooted in place, her hand hovering over the hangers while her mind screamed in protest, the closet door standing open like a gateway to the next phase of her unwilling transformation.

❖

The chatter in The Spare Tyre dive bar, not too far from Rikki’s office building, died down the moment the woman pushed through the wooden door and stepped inside.

A dozen heads turned toward her, mostly men in work attire unwinding after long shifts, their conversations trailing off as they took in the sight of the woman who had just walked in. She wore a tight black latex microdress that clung to every exaggerated curve like liquid skin, the glossy material parting at a window above her plastic breasts, showing off her cleavage proudly. The gem barely skimmed the tops of her thighs and threatened to ride higher every time she moved. Towering clear heels lifted her posture, making her legs appear endless, while a tight black latex choker encircled her throat like a subtle claim of ownership.

Rikki’s face burned beneath the heavy makeup as she felt every stare settle on her body. She looked visibly nervous, her big red lips pressed together, brown eyes darting around the room as though they were searching for an escape. She was wildly overdressed for a place like this, and the contrast compared to the other patrons only drew more attention.

The feminist’s body carried her forward anyway, and she tottered to the rustic wooden bar on those impossible heels before sliding onto a stool, the dress riding up dangerously as she crossed her legs.

The bartender, a heavyset man with tired eyes, raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Rikki ordered. “A single vodka soda, please.” The voice in her head assured her she was just visiting the bar for one drink, but something told her not to trust the supernatural being that had transformed her life.

The bartender placed the glass in front of her without comment and moved on to another customer. Rikki wrapped her fingers around the cold glass and took a long sip, the burn of the vodka doing little to calm the nerves inside her chest. She had control of her body for now, but she knew Viz would not let her simply finish the drink and leave.

A man in a black business suit with thick glasses approached from the side, his smile eager and slightly sweaty. He leaned against the bar beside her stool. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “You look a little lonely. How about you let me pay for that drink?” He offered, already reaching for his wallet.

Rikki turned her head sharply and fixed the man with a cold stare. “I can afford my own drink,” she snapped. “Fuck off.” She hated being approached in public. Why couldn’t slimy men just leave her the fuck alone, she thought to herself.

The man’s smile faltered, his face flushing as he muttered something under his breath before quickly retreating to his table.

An audible laugh rang around Rikki’s ears as Viz’s chuckle echoed in her mind. “You’re feisty tonight, princess. You should play nice with these guys, or I might have to step in and help you make friends.”

Rikki gripped her glass so tightly that it threatened to break in her hands. “Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered fiercely at the taunting voice inside her mind.

A rough-looking businessman nursing a beer on his own at the end of the bar glanced over, grinning at her words. “Who are you talking to, doll?” he asked as he overheard her outburst.

The brunette woman shuddered and snapped her head toward him. “It’s none of your business,” she shot back. “Mind your own and leave me alone!”

The businessman narrowed his eyes, laughing lightly at her comment. “Touchy little bitch, aren’t you?” he said. “There’s plenty I’d like to do to a trashy little mouthy slut like you.”

Rikki shuddered. “Get fucked!” she told him flatly before turning her head away.

The man laughed crudely and turned away. “Frigid whore,” he muttered loud enough for the scantily-clad woman to hear before returning to his drink.

Viz laughed out again, the sound darker this time. “This is your last warning, doll. Be nice.”

Rikki groaned out in frustration as she took another defiant sip of her drink. She refused to give in to whatever sick game this voice played. She would sit here, finish her drink, and try to walk out of this gross bar with her head held high, no matter how many deplorable men stared at her.

A nervous young man approached in a cheap suit next, clearly pushed forward by his laughing colleagues in a corner booth. His face flushed deep red, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he stopped beside her stool.

“Excuse me,” he said timidly. “You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen in my life.” He was visibly nervous, and his voice cracked as though he was going through puberty. “Can I, umm, get your number? Or maybe buy you another drink?”

The busty woman rolled her eyes and set her glass down on the table. “I just want a quiet drink,” she said firmly, her voice laced with frustration. “Please leave me alone.”

The young man raised his hands in immediate surrender and backed away from the snappy woman quickly, returning to his friends amid their jeering laughter.

“I actually agree with that one, princess. He’s not exactly your type.” Viz’s voice laughed again. “However, I did warn you. I let you choose your own conquest, but as you don’t want to play along, I’m more than happy to help you out.”

Without warning, Rikki’s head began turning sharply without her permission, her gaze scanning the dimly lit room as it paused on various men. Her eyes eventually rested on a rough-around-the-edges man sitting alone in a shadowed booth. He was a middle-aged, balding, broad-shouldered man who still wore his dusty construction gear from his earlier shift. His face was weathered, and his beard was untidy as he sat over his beer.

The latex-clad woman’s body slid off the stool and adjusted the dress as she stood. Rikki fought every step, willing her legs to carry her toward the exit instead, but they moved with purpose across the bar toward the older man.

She stopped at his booth, pushing her fake tits forward as she placed her hands on his table. “Hey, stud,” her voice purred. “Mind if I join you?”

The man glanced up from his beer, his small eyes widening slightly as they traveled over the glossy latex clinging to her body. He grunted and gestured to the empty seat opposite him without a word.

Rikki’s body slid into the booth as she sat across from him. Her hands folded on the table, leaning forward just enough to offer an unobstructed view down the plunging neckline where her swollen breasts pressed together.

“You look like you’ve had a hard day,” she said in a sultry tone. “I bet a big, strong man like you knows how to unwind and take care of a slut like me.” She was horrified at her degrading words. ‘Stop!’ she screamed mentally, although her lips didn’t budge.

The construction worker, Mike, took a slow sip of his beer, his gaze studying the way the rubber molded to her body before he set the glass down. He did not look particularly impressed, only mildly curious as he watched the woman who had planted herself opposite him.

Rikki’s body continued regardless, one hand reaching across the table to trace a fingertip along the back of his rough, calloused hands. “I love a man who works with his hands,” her voice purred, low and suggestive. “I can only imagine how good those strong fingers would feel sliding inside me, stretching me open.”

Mike snorted softly, pulling his hand away as he leaned back in the booth. He eyed her with a mix of suspicion and faint interest, but he remained silent.

The brunette’s body giggled, the sound light and teasing as she leaned closer. “Come on, handsome,” her voice coaxed. “Let’s get out of here. There’s a motel right next door. We could try each other out, see how well a big man like you fits inside a needy little thing like me.”

The man finally cracked a small, crooked grin, as though her words had finally confirmed his suspicion. “Sorry, babe. I can’t afford a high-class whore like you,” he said gruffly.

Rikki was mortified. The man thought she was a whore? How dare he! However, her body laughed again as her fingers trailed down his wrist, curling around the thick muscle there. “This one’s free of charge, babe,” her voice promised seductively. “I’m feeling very generous tonight, and I want to feel you pound me until I can’t think straight.” Her words did nothing to put the man in his place, horrifying the busty woman.

Mike’s grin widened, raw interest sparking in his tired eyes as he drained the last of his beer. He tossed a few bills on the table and stood, jerking his head toward the door. “I can’t say no to a freebie,” he muttered, his large hand settling possessively on the small of Rikki’s back as he guided her out of the bar.

The woman’s mind screamed in silent horror, every step toward the exit feeling like a descent into deeper unwanted degradation, while her body moved eagerly beside the rough stranger who would soon claim her for the night.

❖

Mike’s mouth crashed against Rikki’s the moment he fumbled the motel door open, his thick tongue pushing past her glossy lips with rough insistence. His breath carried the heavy stink of cigarettes and cheap beer, making her stomach twist with revulsion, but her body responded eagerly. Her arms wrapped around his wide neck, pulling him closer while her tongue tangled with his in a deep, hungry kiss she had no desire to give.

He backed her into the dim room before a hand carelessly switched the light on. One meaty hand groped the curve of the woman’s ass through the tight latex while the other squeezed her swollen breast hard enough to make the sensitive flesh ache with unwanted pleasure. The door slammed shut behind them, and Mike broke the kiss before shoving the busty brunette onto the cheap bed.

Rikki stumbled back in the towering heels, landing on the worn mattress with a bounce that sent her enhanced breasts jiggling beneath the microdress. Mike stood over her, his eyes dark with lust as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Get undressed, slut,” he growled. “Show me what I’m getting for free tonight.”

The controlled woman’s body obeyed without hesitation. She sat up slowly, her fingers sliding to the hem of the black dress. The material peeled away from her skin with a soft, sticking sound, revealing the full glory of her bare, gravity-defying breasts. The heavy globes spilled free, her nipples already stiff and begging for attention. She lifted the dress higher, over her head, and tossed it to the floor.

Beneath, the political editor wore only a thin black latex g-string that barely covered her smooth mound. Her hands moved to the strings at her hips, tugging them down her thighs until the scrap of fabric joined the dress on the carpet. Completed naked now except for the heels and choker, she reached to unbuckle one shoe.

“Leave them on,” Mike ordered commandingly. “Those fuck-me heels make you look as trashy as you are.”

Rikki’s hands dropped away from the straps immediately. She lay back on the bed, her legs parted slightly, the platforms lifting her ass off the mattress in blatant invitation.

Mike stripped quickly, shedding his dusty work attire until he stood in nothing but stretched boxers that did nothing to hide the thick bulge beneath. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he straddled his busty partner. His rough palms went straight for her breasts, squeezing the firm implants with greedy fascination.

“These are new,” he muttered, his thumbs tracing the thin pink scars beneath each heavy curve. “Still healing, huh? These tits suit a whore like you perfectly.”

Rikki’s mouth opened, her voice rising to thank him for the crude, disgusting compliment, but Mike was faster. He snatched the discarded latex g-string from the floor and shoved it between her glossy lips, stuffing the soaked fabric deep until her protests muffled into helpless whimpers.

“I don’t like a slut who talks too much,” he said with a feral grin. “Keep that pretty mouth busy.”

One calloused hand returned to the woman’s fake breasts, kneading the swollen flesh roughly, pinching the sensitive nipples until sparks of unwanted pleasure shot through her body. The other slid down her stomach, Mike’s thick fingers parting her slick folds without preamble. He found her already drenched, and he laughed low in his throat as he circled her clit deliberately.

Rikki’s hips bucked against the workman’s touch despite every mental scream to stay still or make a run for it. The combination of his rough grip on her tits and the skilled pressure on her clit made the heat rise through every cell in her body. Her nipples throbbed under his twisting fingers, each pull sending fresh waves of sensation straight to her pussy. She hated how responses her body had become, how the enhanced sensitivity turned every touch into fire.

Mike’s fingers dipped lower, two thick digits pushing inside the gagged woman without warning. He curled them, stroking that spot that made her thighs tremble, while his thumb kept relentless circles on her swollen clit. Rikki’s muffled moans grew louder behind the pantie gag, her back arching as pleasure built fast and fierce.

He added a third finger, stretching her, pumping harder while his other hand mauled her fake tits, alternating between squeezing the heavy globes and tugging the stiff peaks until they burned with need. The brunette’s body writhed beneath him, chasing the release she despised wanting, her pussy clenching greedily around his invading fingers.

Mike pulled his hand free suddenly and shoved his boxers down, freeing his thick dick. It stood heavy and veined, already leaking as he positioned himself between the naked woman’s spread thighs. Without a word, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

Rikki’s muffled scream vibrated around the soaked latex in her mouth, the sudden fullness overwhelming her. Pleasure and shame crashed together as her walls stretched around the man’s girth, her body welcoming the invasion even as her mind recoiled in horror.

The construction worker set a punishing rhythm immediately, his hips slamming against hers, the bed creaking beneath them. Each deep thrust drove the air from her lungs, his weight pinning the businesswoman while his hands returned to her breasts, using them as handles to pull her onto his member even harder. The nipples scraped against his palms with every movement, sending jolts of ecstasy through her that she couldn’t deny.

Rikki’s first orgasm hit hard and fast, her pussy clamping down around the man using her as waves of pleasure tore through her body. She moaned helplessly into the gag, her body shaking while Mike only grunted and fucked her through it, not slowing for a second.

He shifted angles, diving deeper, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over. Rikki’s second climax built even faster, her thighs quivering around his hips, breasts bouncing with every thrust. When it crashed over her, she saw stars, muffled cries filling the room as her body convulsed beneath him. The entire surface area of her body became one giant erogenous zone.

Mike’s pace grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he neared his own release. He pulled out suddenly, straddling her chest as he gripped his slick cock. With a low groan, the gruff man came hard, thick ropes of cum painting her massive breasts, splattering across her swollen curves, and onto her brightly painted lips.

Rikki lay there silent beneath him, her chest heaving with long, ragged breaths while the warm evidence of his release cooled on her skin. The soaked panties still filled her mouth, the taste of her own arousal mixing with the salty bitterness that had leaked through the fabric. Her body felt spent, her limbs heavy and trembling from the forced pleasure that wracked her multiple times.

The balding man climbed off the bed with a satisfied grunt, reaching for his discarded clothes. He unhurriedly pulled on his jeans and shirt, buckling his belt as he glanced down at the cum-covered woman sprawled across the mattress. A crooked smirk tugged at his lips while he fished out a five-dollar bill from his jeans pocket.

He tossed the bill onto Rikki’s body, watching it land on the sticky mess coating her fake breasts and cling there. “That’s all I can afford, I’m afraid, whore,” he said with crude amusement. “You were good, though.” With a soft chuckle, the man turned toward the door.

The motel door clicked shut behind him, leaving Rikki alone in the stale room. She remained motionless for long moments, too exhausted and ashamed to move, the weight of humiliation settling over her.

As she lay in the bed, exhausted, Viz’s voice returned, warm and conversational, as though he was commenting on the weather. “I liked him, princess. He was rough around the edges, and he knew exactly how to handle those new tits of yours.” The voice paused for a long moment, and Rikki was too tired to retort. “But I think we can find someone even better for you. Don’t worry, we’ll keep looking for the perfect man.”

The voice’s laugh rang out around the spent and humiliated brunette as she spat out the panties from her mouth. That voice was controlling her and destroying her life before her very eyes, and if she didn’t do anything to stop it, she dreaded to think what was in line for her next.

End of Chapter Two