“G-Gianna?” I asked Aubrey from my spot a foot off the floor, held aloft in Morgan’s strong hands, my bright colored shoes from the kids’ department dangling helplessly, “Wants to talk to me?” I gulped, trying my best to look dignified. Not an easy task. “N-now?”
I acted surprised, but I’d known this was coming. I’d had reports to complete, a bunch of data from the study to sign off on. It’d been tasked to me quite a while ago. As little as I actually really did for this thing, this clinical trial, Evolution relied on me and my authority to keep things on schedule. At least as far as my own paperwork was concerned, and this report had been due last night.
“Yeah, she says now,” Aubrey replied, a funny look on her face as she processed the scene in front of her eyes; the broadly smiling Uber-Amazon Morgan holding her shrunken boss like a toy, a boss that didn’t weigh very much, at that. Aubrey bit her lower lip before continuing. “And she sounds a little annoyed.”
“I am a little annoyed,” came a new woman’s voice, clear as day, from the speakers of my desktop computer.
What the?? Looking to my left I saw, onscreen, the videochat window already open. There she was, Gianna, remotely controlling my computer. She was here with us already, sort of. I thought I’d told Marisela to fix that, not allow her access to-
“Hi Morgan,” Gianna spoke, obviously able to see us as she remotely greeted the enormous blonde before me, “Can you put him in his chair so we can have a little talk?”
Next thing I knew I was being plopped behind my desk, butt-in-chair, facing the screen and an obviously nonplussed Gianna Albertini, Study Coordinator for Evolution Pharmaceuticals She was my liaison to the company and the face/ - holy crap look at her tits - chest behind all the money the practice was being infused with for its participation. She was young, she tended to be flippant about this whole project and my involvement, and she didn’t look happy.
After dropping me down into my seat, Morgan had stepped away, her big, long legs quickly getting her to the other side of my desk on her way to the door.
“Morgan, wait,”
Gianna’s voice stopped the big woman in her tracks. It spoke through my computer speakers, “maybe you can stay in the room with us as we chat.”
Morgan turned, with a smile, towering over my desk behind the terminal screen...
“I can be doing that, yes,” she answered, with more than a small bit of excitement in her voice. Her smile widened, obviously enthused by the tone this conversation was taking. Even her teeth were big. I could see it already: she was looking forward to a dressing-down. Mine. A man’s at the hands of a woman with authority.
Gianna regarded me through the camera. Her brow was crooked; she was not smiling. “Good morning, Doctor,” she spoke, “It’s been a bit since we last touched base, huh?” Though her tone was flat, I could see a glint of light in her eye as she regarded me even through our low resolution screens. She cocked her head. “You look hungry…and skinny.” she said, “Did you eat anything today?”
“N-no, I-” I actually hadn’t.
“Have one of those protein bars you keep in your desk,” she said, plainly. And then paused, waiting for me to act.
What the f-..? How did she know that? I thought, even as I found myself doing exactly as she’d suggested, opening the top drawer of my desk and pulling out a fruit-and-nut protein bar. Breakfast would probably be smart.
“You need the help to unwrap?” Morgan asked, from her looming position over my desk.
“No I-I got it,” I answered, peeling through the foil that - god help me - did give me more of a challenge than it should.
I took a bite. I’d thrown a few of these in here just last week but it still tasted old and stale, almost like the cardboard box they came in. A glass of milk might make it taste better, I couldn’t help but think.
“So, okay,” I began, between a few forced chews. I looked back at the screen trying my best to keep my eyes off her tits. “How long is this going to take?” I asked, “I have patients to get to.”
Gianna didn’t like that. “No, you don’t. I’ve had the staff move your morning patients to Morgan and Vida, because you’ll need the time for the report,” she said. She paused. “And, I don’t like your tone,” she added.
To that, I admit I bristled. Who was this woman, thinking she can run my day, my practice, my time with patients?! If you, dear reader, haven’t gathered it by this point, I was more than a little resistant to participating in this clinical trial to begin with. I was a little weirded out by the whole situation. Yes, the money was good for us - we actually needed it, with my reduced production - but I was not going to allow myself to be scolded by a corporate floozy behind a video chat screen. I was, however, smart enough not to say exactly what was on my mind…but I came exceedingly close. “Well, thanks for thinking of us, Gianna, but I have patient care as my first priori-”
“I’m going to have to ask you to call me Ms. Albertini from now on….,” she broke in, her body language shifting onscreen - She set her shoulders and thrust out her ungodly chest - in a clear move to show me who exactly was in charge. “...and I’m this close to demoting you from the principal investigator on this study and naming one of our girls instead.”
Okay, that was the last straw.
“What?!” I blurted, shocked by her boldness.
“You are late with the reports I needed from you, again. I’d given you plenty of time, and you’ve had more than enough warnings,” she laid into me, “I’ve tried to make this as easy for you as possible, because I know you have certain limits-”
“Limits?!?” I exclaimed, taken aback again by her attitude, her belittling of me. I know now, and I think I even kinda knew it then: that I was acting up, lashing out a bit irrationally. I think I felt the need to exert myself in some way, after all the humiliations and submissiveness I was starting to realize comprised my entire weekend. So it was here, I guess, that I was putting my foot down. “I’m perfectly capable of filling out the spreadsheets you need.” I started again, “I’m a busy person and this is-...this is just data entry. I frankly just need to find the time t-”
"Frankly you're proving yourself to be just like other men," she cut in, "and showing yourself incapable of the work."
“Oh my god…!” I groaned, as I was vaguely aware of Morgan leaning a bit forward, over my desk. My hands shot up in impotent rage, but instead of jumping in with a defense of my beleaguered gender, my eyes suddenly drifted into Morgan’s massive, plump cleavage. Woof. A guy could get lost in there…
Morgan began to giggle, a deep and throaty chuckle as my anger began to slip through the cracks of my skull and I became lost in the vast swells of her chest.
Gianna took the opportunity - no doubt seeing my eyes dart upward - to lecture me on my sex’s many recent failings. Yes, yes, I knew that earlier this year women had become the majority of the workforce for the first time in U.S. history. Most managers, like Giana here, were now women too. All her bosses, the executives at the pharmaceutical company certainly were too, I was sure. She told me that for every two men who got their college degree this year, three women would be doing the same. The statistics regarding the graduate and professional degrees were even more dramatic. What do you think the workforce will look like soon? she asked me, Do you think society won't change because of this? For years, decades, generations, women’s progress had been cast as a struggle for equality. “But what if we know now that equality shouldn’t be the end point?” she asked me, as the blonde giantess Morgan continued to keep me tempted by her big Hungarian bosom. “What if modern society is simply better suited for women like me and Morgan, and Melissa and Olivia and Lakshmi and all the others, to dominate it? To run the lives of flawed, frail men like you?”
My heart was pounding. Was it fear or, god help me, was I turned on?
Men had been the dominant sex since, well, the dawn of forever. It was called ‘mankind’ for a reason, right? But I knew that, for the first time in human history, that was all changing - and it seemed to be doing so with shocking speed. Cultural and economic changes always reinforce each other, so - yes, like Gianna said - society was certainly going to be different with more and more women becoming the breadwinners, the business leaders, the politicians and even the clergy. Home life was also certainly going to change. With more husbands becoming dependent on their wives, if there was a ‘Battle of the Sexes’ imminent, like so many were predicting, would they be forced to 'bend the knee' to the so-called superior gender. What would happen to what we considered democracy? What we considered America?
And, it wasn’t just here in the US. The global economy was evolving in new, unexpected ways as well. Many countries were seeing the historical preference for having male children begin to erode. Gianna began talking about using new advances in medical technology to purposefully alter the birthrates of each sex. She wasn’t just talking about doing it abroad, but here at home as well. The thought made me squirm. Was I outraged? Disturbed? Excited? I didn’t know.. I was far too captivated by Morgan’s chest to understand even my own feelings.
“Oh my god, just look at you,” Gianna said, finally calling me out as I stared blankly forward clearly hypnotized by Morgan’s massive tits. She smirked with a knowing smile that mirrored Morgan’s own. “This is totally going to be how it happens, you know, ‘The End of Men’. You’re all just going to give in to your pathetic male urges and slowly fade away into our cleavages. Battle of the Sexes? We won’t have to fight you at all.”
“F-fight?” I said, confused. I was - I really was! - trying to be angry, trying to resist. But I knew I was instead coming across as pathetic and weak. I clearly, obviously, didn’t really care about my position here, my authority. I only cared about how fucking hot this was though inside my logical side wanted to be enraged and rebel. I was turned on more and more every moment, with every belittling comment Gianna lobbed my way. Regardless of what I said, it was obvious that I was exactly where they wanted me. They knew I would fall into line. Maybe I already had.
Gianna, though, had worked herself into an animated fervor, and she was very obviously still pissed. “I can’t wait, I really can’t,” she began again, “for this study to be fucking done with so I can get out of quarantine and get a hive of my own!”
What? What was she talking about?
“I want to start flexing,” she continued, now sounding like she was talking to herself as much as she was addressing me or anyone else. “I’m a fucking queen and all I have to show for it so far are these enormous tits.”
“wh-what do you m-?” I asked, obtusely. I really had no idea, dear reader, what was going on.
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t realize,” she pressed on, speaking over me, “how every girl around you has been busting through their bras, just to give you more to look at? Even me. Even just being on these fucking video chats with you has done this…”
At that, onscreen, Gianna turned in profile, pressed forth her shockingly big chest, and nearly gave me an aneurysm.
“It’s you, you little fucker, you little boob monkey,” she chastised, turning back to the camera, “You’re the one doing this to us.”
“Wh-what??” I stammered, more confused than ever. Is this woman crazy? What’s she talking about??
She continued on her rant, speaking quickly, in heat. “Yep I was assigned to you and surprise surprise what makes me best at getting you to do what I need?” At that, she cupped her hands under her giant breasts and lifted them, bouncing them up and down, flesh quivering above her neckline. “These. You’re the one male I’m allowed to talk to and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We knew you were a tit-obsessed freak. I just can’t believe I’m so fucking attracted to you now, either. You’re fucking perfect, so small and weak.”
I was sputtering, confused, still trying to be angry and definitely weirded out by the delusions of this woman, but finding it hard - god help me - to argue back when a set of tits like that just told me I was cute. But, I knew I needed to somehow get this meeting out of its bizarre tailspin and was about to speak up again when Gianna asked for the blond behemoth again.
“Morgan, sweetie, can you pull his desk out of the way?” she queried, “Just make sure he can still see his computer.”
“Of course,” Morgan answered and then suddenly - sweet lord - with the ease of someone pulling the sheets off the bed she’d yanked my desk back away from me, just enough so, now that she’d stepped back around, she had room to squeeze in, crouch down between my legs and with one hand on each of my knees spread my legs. And she had, yes, repositioned my screen so Gianna could watch this whole thing and - more importantly for her, I think - I could see her.
“I obviously need you to imprint on me a bit,” Gianna explained through the speakers, adjusting her low-cut blouse and my view of her tits as Morgan looked up into my eyes and seemed ready to just pull the thin fabric of my scrub pants off me. With the same strength she’d shown with my desk, my pants could come off like tissue paper. I knew I’d be in her mouth in seconds. Morgan smiled, grabbed the fabric of my scrubs at my thighs, and slowly started to tear them away when suddenly we were interrupted.
“Knock knock,Sweetie,” an angelic voice came from the doorway, “I’ve got you your milk…”
Melissa.
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more RiF help on this one. Thanks!