I always warn future good girls who are new to this space that they need to be careful.
It all seems like innocent fun until you find yourself with your hand down your pants, mindlessly scrolling and rubbing each and every minute. You'll find yourself softly humping anything you can stick between your legs.
One day every notification will make your cunt soaking wet and your brain blank, knowing we're using you for pleasure.
Before long, you'll know that your purpose is to be an empty cockslut ready to obey whenever we need. You'll be ready to do anything to be told you're such a good girl.
Porn addiction speed run where I tie you up, tape a vibe to your clit, and strap you into a VR headset playing nothing but 8 hour goon fuel compilation's.
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Enjoy 🩷
Sarah adjusted her posture, shifting her weight from one heel to the other until her stance looked just right in the mirror. Back arched up, breasts jutting forward and butt held high. Presentation mattered. She wasn't sure when that had become the most important part of the workday, but she accepted it the same way she accepted the morning clock-in.
Naturally.
Beside her, Alexa stretched slightly, letting out a quiet, distracted sound as she checked her own reflection.
"Man," she said, her voice carrying a nervous laugh, "work's gotten kinda weird lately, don't you think?"
Sarah didn’t answer immediately. She was too focused on the careful twist of her lipstick tube. The bright red color felt right today. Yesterday had been pink. Tomorrow might be gloss. The choices felt important in ways she couldn't quite explain.
"Not really," Sarah finally said, her voice calm and certain. "Everything's normal."
And she truly believed that.
She applied the color slowly, making sure the shape of her lips looked soft and inviting. When she pressed them together, she felt that same quiet sense of approval again. That warm internal reassurance that she was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing. A deep thrust into her back entrance illicited a sensual groan.
Only then did she take in the rest of the room.
Every female employee stood at her workstation instead of sitting. Every desk had a standing mirror now. The dress code had changed too, though no official email had ever announced it. Tight skirts, fitted blouses, short dresses. Soft fabrics or tight materials dominated with a mixture of bright colors and glossy black.. Outfits that looked more suited for a night out than a spreadsheet review.
Yet no one questioned it.
Some adjusted their collars. Some reapplied mascara. And some practiced smiles like they were rehearsing for something important. A few moaned as they corrected their posture, shoulders back, hips slightly angled, heads tilted just enough to look appealing without seeming obvious.
This was simply part of being professional.
Sarah smoothed down the side of her fitted dress and gave a small approving nod at her reflection. She could feel that same quiet satisfaction settling in her chest again, the long thick thing thrusting in deeply.
Productive.
Presentable.
Good.
Beside her, Alexa still looked uncertain, tugging slightly at the hem of her outfit like she hadn't fully gotten used to it yet.
Sarah didn't understand why.
After all, the rules were simple:
'Look available. Bend over properly. Smile.'
She could have recited those rules in her sleep. In fact, she often did, mumbling the phrases into her pillow in the late night hours.
Another deep thrust caused Sarah to moan as she arched her back a bit further and adjusted the way her breasts sat on the desk in front of her. Yes, this would be an extremely productive day. The thrusting into her backdoor became faster.
She ground her hips against the empty air behind her.
"Sarah?" Alexa's voice held a slight nervous edge to it. "Do you, I mean, do you ever feel like we are missing something?"
Sarah blinked at her. "Like what?"
"I'm not sure," Alexa said with an almost frustrated sigh, "I just, feel a bit weird lately."
That wasn't allowed, and the thought of it sent a slight ripple of concern through Sarah's mind. It felt wrong, like a glitch or a hiccup.
"Try arching your back more," she said helpfully. "That usually fixes things."
Alexa did so, though the uncertain frown remained. "Is it supposed to be this - oh fuck!"
Her question was cut off as her body suddenly seized up, the tension in her limbs going loose. A sharp gasp of pleasure spilled from Alexa's lips, her eyelids fluttering and hips grinding down hard into empty air.
"That's it," Sarah encouraged. "Keep your posture, and everything should work fine."
"Yes. Oh, yes!" Alexa's voice went from unsure to certain in a rush, the worry in her expression shifting to blissful relief. She rocked back against her desk, and a faint sheen of sweat appeared on her skin.
"That's right. There is nobody here, besides us girls." She shivered. "There's nothing to be worried about." Sarah's breath caught, a small whimper of satisfaction slipping past her lips as she arched and writhed. "Everything's normal." She continued her thought.
"Everything's normal," Alexa repeated, her voice trailing off as she pushed her ass higher into the air.
"Office sluts are always unaware," Sarah whispered to herself as a mantra of comfort and stability, her body rocking with deep pleasure as the office went about its daily routine of being bent over workstations and looking appealing.
She moaned, "It feels so good to be an anal slut," she gasped as bliss rolled through her in warm waves. And everything felt exactly as it should be. The only thing she truly was aware of was her pleasure. Her butt felt wonderful, her tight little backdoor being spread wide and her insides being stirred up.
The thing about magical items is they’re so easy to abuse.
Marcella was learning that quickly. She’d first bought the pen in an antique store, owned it for years and thought nothing of it.
It was during a house party, when she drank too much and passed out on her couch, that one of her friends used it to write dumb slut on her face.
Mean spirited, but hardly the end of the world…until Marcella woke up with a blank, glassy look in her eyes.
Her boyfriend thought she might have had a stroke. She was giggling, bouncing her tits, reaching for his crotch…he was on the verge of calling for an ambulance, when, as an afterthought, wiped the writing off her cheek. His thoughtful, caring girlfriend had been replaced by an empty-headed bimbo.
Her pupils returned to normal, hands falling away from groping herself, mouth closing as her usual mindset reasserted itself.
Almost her usual mindset. Neither of them realized it, but the change left a permanent mark in her personality. She was just a little more sexually open, a little slower on the uptake.
It wasn’t long before she discovered the pen could make body changes, too. The first test was big tits, written across her cleavage, in a lust-filled move as she walked up to the bedroom.
Would she have done that before she used the pen, part of her wondered. But at that moment her tits felt too good to care.
Both her and her boyfriend had watched, enraptured, as her growing breasts overflowed her nightgown, stopping only when they snapped one of the shoulder straps.
Big tits took her up to a full double J cup. Trust me, she measured them. Very thoroughly.
Huge tits made her too big for bras. She grew a pair of enormous lap-fillers, just small enough to reach her arms around comfortably.
Gigantic tits she hadn’t tried yet. Maybe for a special occasion…but it was tempting. The old her would never have fantasized about being that big…
Who cared if none of her regular bras fit anymore? They were just slowing her down.
Dumb slut, busty bimbo, pretty toy…words she started to use every weekend. To relieve work stress. Craving that feeling of blissful emptiness, to lose herself in pleasure.
Who cares if she was always wet now? It just made nights even more fun.
Today, Marcella wanted to try something new. Hefting her trusty pen, frowning when she tried to remember the letter order- did the old her remember how to do that?- before clumsily writing Milk Me in large, blocky letters.
The change was immediate. Just like sliding into a warm bath, or maybe dragging her nipples across fabric…
She didn’t hesitate to touch them, feeling her teats thicken and darken between her fingers. Marcella had barely registered her breast growth, gradual as it was over a dozen transformations…but she had never lactated before. The first wet drops on her hands eliciting a pleasurable gasp as sensations coursed through her, an electric tingling starting at the base of her udders and moving quickly to the swollen nipples.
Marcella glanced at the clock. Udders…now that was a word she could try next. And she still had an entire half hour before her boyfriend came home…
Already she was pulling and tugging them, each successive drop of milk larger and creamier, her moans lengthening and becoming deeper.
It wasn’t long before thick splashes of dairy decorated her counters, the brand new cow swaying her hips happily as she uttered her first-
