If Ben learned nothing else in that first week following his meeting with Ms. Hoshoku, it was that he couldn’t overestimate her claims enough.

            That anonymous cherry-blend creation (officially called ForLit now) credited to himself and Hoshoku’s “elite squad” struck the food and beverage industry like the blitzkrieg. It was on every periodical cover, both in ads and health articles. It plastered on the news and into television ads. People carried bottles of ForLit on the streets like mugs of coffee. If Ben had to guess, Blend was sinking every last dollar it had on reserve into this campaign. And it appeared to be paying off in spades.

            As Ben came to work on the subway, he couldn’t help but notice almost half of the individuals on the car either clutching bottles of the cherry-red substance, or personal thermoses which sloshed with the stuff as well. Others carried flasks, which Ben supposed very well could’ve transported secret reserves of ForLit. He swelled with personal triumph.

            “That’s mine,” he wanted to say proudly to every stranger he met. “I made that. Well, me and some people I’ve never met using some ingredients I didn’t approve first, but damn it, I’m in there!”

            Of course, Ben hadn’t gone unrewarded. He’d received a decent gift of thanks from the company in his bank account, just a bit larger than his Christmas bonus. Plus he’d won the admiration of every coworker in his building who would get to keep their jobs now that Blend wasn’t tanking. While still not quite skyrocketing, as Hoshoku had promised, the company was making an unprecedented turnaround in the stocks. Even Mariah had shut her trap finally.

            “Ben?” a voice uttered kindly from the side as the man stepped off the subway platform.

            He smiled at Kendra Roberts, a lower Blend technician-in-training who seemed to be the antithesis of Mariah’s bitter jealousy and office politics. The bright-eyed, caramel-skinned beauty was simply a good person, and Ben appreciated having a genuine friend as he was probably on the verge of rising up in the business world.

            “Kendra, hi, how’re things!” he said cheerily as they headed for the Blend subway entrance. For an instant, he couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be staring at the young woman directly eye-to-eye, whereas he once stood closer to a head taller than her. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off. She was probably just wearing heels.

            “I just wanted to say congratulations on your success. I’ve been rooting for you, after all that work you put in and, well… I’m glad it’s coming through for you,” Kendra said. She gave him a genial half-hug, waved, and sauntered off toward her department’s entrance. As she went, Ben gave in to his usual exit peek. Kendra wasn’t exactly well-endowed in the derriere, but she was young, cute, and pert, and thus still worth sneaking a glance. As she disappeared through the door, though, Ben noticed she wasn’t actually wearing heels. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off.

            When he arrived in his office, he found an email waiting. From Hoshoku. A name he never expected to see in his personal inbox.

            Benjamin.

            Come up to my office when you arrive in the building. We’ve a few matters to discuss.

                        Ms. Hoshoku

            Heart aflutter all over again, Ben checked his reflection in the computer screen, desperately combing his hair and picking at his teeth to make sure he was clear. Not that he expected a single thing to ever come close to happening with this gorgeous woman, but instinct made it impossible to help himself.

            “Matters” to discuss. That didn’t necessarily sound positive. Ben jokingly smacked himself in the cheek for trying to self-defeat yet again. He’d helped create ForLit! The new MVP of this entire corporate enterprise! He had no reason to be nervous, perhaps ever again!

            Gathering his supplies as he did last time, Ben did up the buttons on his suit. He noticed the hang of the jacket was looser than he remembered. At least a size too large. Again he shrugged it off; he’d been putting in some extra jogging time, that was all, and shed a few pounds. Maybe he could get himself a new suit if he received a raise and a promotion from all this ForLit buzz.

            In the hallway, Ben realized he was walking straight for Mariah, going in the opposite direction. Ordinarily he would’ve busied himself with the folders in his hands so he could avoid looking at her until she was turned around, but this time, he had to take notice.

            Mariah certainly couldn’t be considered a tall woman. Average height, at best, if not below. Ben was probably a full six inches over her the week before, which he remembered more distinctly than he did Kendra, because he found it so sweet to lord his big meeting with Hoshoku over her as he slid past the messenger.

            And indeed, Mariah wore heels, unlike Kendra, but that still didn’t quite account for the possible optical illusion Ben was experiencing beneath the office fluorescents. The woman was definitely taller than him. Those spike heels gave her an edge, but there was no way she was wearing nine-inch heels. Did they even make them that high? Ben swallowed, unable to keep himself from tracing his gaze down the length of her body as she power-marched toward him. Her bust, never exactly a winning point for her before, had increased, and noticeably. Ben wondered how she’d afforded the plastic surgery to enlarge her chest, though he didn’t question it so hard that he became less grateful for the opportunity to gawk at those rotund orbs pressing through her lab coat.

            “Eyes to yourself, creep,” Mariah snarled as they passed. Ben shrugged, diverting his vision again. Okay, she probably had him there; he’d definitely stared longer than he should’ve. Even then, he couldn’t avoid sneaking a glance at her retreating form.

            It seemed she’d developed in the lower regions, too. Though her lab coat had once all but made her rump invisible, today, Mariah’s ass had filled in her garments nicely. The white fabric bulged along the curved corners with the increased girth.

            Ben idled to himself in the elevator. Maybe his blonde rival hadn’t even gotten plastic surgery, maybe she’d just packed on a couple pounds in exactly the right places? He wasn’t going to complain, either way.

            The walk to Hoshoku’s office was less intimidating this time, even if it seemed a hair spacier than his previous visit. He knocked once on the door, just as last time, but had to wait longer before it once again swung away to reveal his superior and the reason he was suddenly a minor league Blend superstar.

            And was it ever a revelation. Ben had to clench the muscles in his back and legs just to prevent himself from popping an erection from merely standing before her. The woman’s previously semi-prominent breasts had evolved into, Ben had to admit crudely, melons. They were almost aching against the buttons of her suit top. Not to mention her hips, which swung down in an elegant hourglass slope from her ribs to her thighs. And if he’d thought Kendra and Mariah were making the most of their stature, he’d been putting his standards far too low.

            Ms. Hoshoku had definitely grown. There were no two ways about it. Before, where she’d hovered about two inches above Ben’s eye line, now, she was up somewhere closer to a comparison of a mother and pre-teen child with Ben. She was certainly over six feet now, perhaps even a full inch, and making the most of it with some truly dizzyingly tall high-heels.

            “Benjamin,” the woman intimated simply. Again, the sickly, scheming smile which lit up her gentle oriental features but simultaneously swirled the man’s stomach as he looked up, truly looked up, at her. Finger beckoned. “Come in.”

            “R-Right away, Ms. Hoshoku,” he said, croaking past the stutter. He had no idea why he was compelled to sound so much like a busboy when all she did was invite him in. Still, the words came out.

            As before, he obediently followed his dark-haired, olive-skinned siren into her office. This time, it was a scientific impossibility to tear his eyes from her ass, and not just because it was significantly closer to his eye line; nearly stomach level, in fact. Her butt had been transformed into a veritable globe. Not merely teasing against the fringes of the fabric, her entire skirt line was inflated by her beautifully yoga-sculpted rear. Like twin dunes, it artfully tested the tensile strength of its confining fabric, probably longing to stretch free.

            Ben’s mouth watered just a little. What it would be like, just to get near it. Just to touch it, with one finger, and press in hard enough to experience the softly jiggling, muscular mass for himself. He was sure he could be happy with that much.

            Ms. Hoshoku turned around, ending the show, and sat in her chair.

            Numbly, the man continued standing before the desk, unsure whether he was staying long enough to even need to sit. What if he sat down and embarrassed himself for it?

            Amused, his boss batted her dark eyes and provided another lilting smirk. She nodded.

            “You can go ahead and sit down, Benjamin,” she said permissively.

            Now feeling like an idiot for waiting to hear office etiquette, Ben shuffled into his chair and folded his hands in his lap. Again, he was tasked with leaning far enough forward that his pants tent remained invisible.

            “My time is valuable, Benjamin, so I’ll just skip right to the point,” Hoshoku said, her calculating tone dropping an octave. Correspondingly, Ben felt his body go rigid.

            Maybe he did have reason to worry?
            “It’s happening,” she said. “Blend is on the rise, just as I said it would be.”

            Ben quietly exhaled with relief.

            “But more to the point, we can help it on its ascent, such that it reaches the stars all the speedier. You and I. Did you know that?”

            “N-No, no, I, uh… I hadn’t considered that.”
            “I imagine not. It would seem silly, wouldn’t it? The idea of you, a Blend technician, forming a partnership with your product manager and quite possibly soon-to-be director of production?”

            Ben’s pulse quickened yet again, just as soon as he’d relaxed. Conversations with Ms. Hoshoku were proving fast to be emotional roller coasters. What was this about a partnership?

            “You see, it’s like this,” Hoshoku said, steepling her fingers together a crossing a nyloned leg over its equally slender mate. “Marketing has arrived at the conclusion that what this new beverage… this meteoric phenomenon could use… is a human side. A presentation of Blend’s absolute focus on teamwork. Something to tether it to Earth, even as we take the industry by storm. Thus, they would like you and I, ForLit’s creators, to become the faces of the campaign.”

            Ben nodded. He couldn’t possibly be hearing her right. Teamwork? Faces of the Campaign?

            “Of course I told them it sounded marvelous to me,” Ms. Hoshoku said, her unimpressed tone suggesting she hadn’t found much of anything in her entire life to be marvelous. “And that you felt the same.”

            “Oh. Well, uh…” Ben mumbled, shifting his gaze to his knuckles. Much as he knew he couldn’t say no to increased time in the magnetic presence of his boss, he also wasn’t sure he was ready to make the leap to “Marketing Campaign Face.” Him, Benjamin Modine, putting his identity out with this drink? Him, who’d won Shyest Student back in first grade by popular vote, was going to be advertised in conjunction with a diet beverage which was currently being enjoyed by the crateload on a nationwide scale?

            “What’s that?” Ms. Hoshoku questioned sharply.

            “Nothing, nothing,” he said. “I suppose it’s just a lot to take in.”

            “I suppose it is,” she responded. She reached to the corner of her desk, where another chrome thermos and two empty glass bottles awaited. Her dark eyes almost seemed to shimmer as they bored into his pupils. “But I’m sure you’ll find a way to get used to it.”

            And just like that, Ben knew, he was on board. He couldn’t back out. There was no physical way. Not with this leviathan of a woman.

            Hoshoku set to uncorking the thermos and pouring out two bottles full of crimson ForLit, as she had last time.

            “Come now,” she said, scooting his portion across her desk. “Drink up, Benjamin. Last time was a celebration of new potential. This is a toast to fresh partnerships.”

            “Uh… a… toast-”

            “I can tell you’re speaking slower so you don’t stutter in front of me, Benjamin,” the sharp-eared woman said. “And I want you to know I find it quite entertaining. Endearing, really. As I’ve said, it’s something I’m used to seeing in male technicians. However, for the sake of wrapping up the meeting in a timely manner, go ahead and speak at your normal speed.”

            “Ah… ah, um… yes, of c-course. And, uh… thank you, Ms. H-Hoshoku. For everything,” Ben managed. He grasped the bottle and took a swig along with his boss. Sure, he was terrified out of his mind at the idea of having to display his likeness for all the world to see. But then again, if he started bringing the numbers down, they could simply boot him out and focus on Ms. Hoshoku.

            He couldn’t imagine a single human eye would be focused on him for even a solitary second, either way. No rational person who glanced at, say, a poster containing both Ms. Hoshoku and Benjamin could do anything but become entranced by the towering Japanese giantess and her curve-complimenting business suits.

            Ben finished the bottle of cherry liquid and placed it back on the desk. Maybe, he supposed, there was no need to worry. Yes, he was visibly and balefully nervous in front of this woman who could see right through him with ease. But things were looking up. He just had to sit tight for the ride ahead.

            “Benjamin,” Ms. Hoshoku said imperiously, having drawn out the last languishing sip of her ForLit bottle. “I have a question I need to ask you.”

            “Anything, Ms. Hoshoku,” he said.

            Again with the over-dramatic agreement. Why couldn’t he talk like a normal person in front of her, even just a little?

            “Have you ever been a footstool before?” she asked casually.