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