Another Cup
Donna Roth didn’t particularly care for performance reviews—after all, who did? However, unlike her colleagues, she didn’t fear them. It was a senseless formality to tell her what she already knew: that her work was stellar, that she was an asset to the office and the company as a whole, that her leadership and teamwork yadda yadda yadda. It was all theater, but she still put a bit of effort to look her best for the occasion: blinding white blouse, perfectly tailored to show a hint of her curves and no more; dark gray jacket that gave her an air of confident professionalism; pants that minimized her posterior, which wasn’t an easy task for any piece of clothing. Donna knew that when you were a blue-eyed blonde, most people didn’t see a boss at first glance, and she used her outfit to fight that. She was a boss, and climbing quickly.
After the review, Donna locked herself in the bathroom. She wanted to scream and she wanted to cry and she wanted to become a ball of fire and engulf the entire forsaken office. It made no sense. The words echoed in her head like a malignant, taunting spirit. Lack of focus of late. Reduced productivity. Perhaps it would be best to take on fewer responsibilities for a while. What. The. Fuck. Lack of focus? Fuck that, Donna knew she was a goddamn laser in an office full of gibbering baboons. She looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t going to cry. Even by herself, she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. Still, a part of her felt something new, something strange. Fewer responsibilities. She had to admit that sounded… relaxing. Okay. Regroup. Do your best, keep your work up, keep your focus. You’ll be back on your way up in no time.
The first week after the review, Donna felt comfortable with her reduced workload. It was a breeze. Still, she couldn’t help but to demand perfection in every single task, every form, every boring piece of paperwork. Lack of focus? Well, she decided to hit the coffee machine hard. Her stomach might not like it, but she would do what she needed to do. Lucky for her, no one else drank the coffee. Donna wondered why. Sure, it wasn’t Italian Espresso, but it wasn’t bad as far as office coffee went—not that it was a high bar to clear, but it was free.
The second week was harder. She didn’t know why, but she was finding it difficult to concentrate, to follow a long train of thought. She made stupid mistakes and hated herself for them. Maybe they had been right about a lack of focus. Well, time to hit the coffee harder. Another cup, and another, and another… Was it just her or were the guys at the office getting… hotter? Had they always looked so tempting? Had the women always seemed so soft, their skin so smooth and kissable, their lips so alluring? No, surely she would have noticed before, wouldn’t she? Or perhaps they had been right all along about her lack of focus; how else could she explain not noticing how surrounded by beauty she was?
Week three saw some changes in Donna Roth. She was spacey, that much was certain—but surrounded by hunks and babes, who could blame her? She still couldn’t say how she didn’t notice it before, but once the floodgates had opened, they had let through a torrent of sexy distractions. She also realized that they looked at her, and bit by bit she started giving them something to look at. She left one more button of her blouse unbuttoned. She changed her pants for a skirt and stockings. Her heels became higher, her makeup more carefully designed and applied to draw the eye. Her mind was less and less focused on her work and more and more focused on her coworkers. They looked at her and she looked at them, and entire conversations took place without a word, spoken only in the language of posture, smile, glance. Coffee. She needed more. She needed it like air.
It was during the fourth week after the review that Donna did something she had never done before: she arrived late to work. She felt ashamed and upset: it was exactly the sort of behavior that would have made her mentally discard a coworker as dead weight not too long ago. Of course, they couldn’t know why she was late, and that image gave her a perverse satisfaction. None of them could realize she had been playing with her pussy all night, dreaming of all the ways in which she would pleasure their cocks, imagining herself sucking on the girls’ tits, seeing herself on her knees, her male coworkers forming a circle around her and coating her in cum, warm blast after warm blast right there in the middle of the office… How could anyone expect her to sleep at night when such delightful pictures came to her head without mercy?
That, of course, did nothing for her focus. She couldn’t stop fantasizing, and had to retire to the bathroom to desperately seek relief. As she fingered herself with passion, almost with rage, fragments of words and a symphony of whimpers escaped her lips. She hoped they didn’t hear her moans, and she also hoped they did. So many new scenes were born inside her just by that notion alone… But she needed to focus. She needed to reclaim her old job, her old reputation. Only one way to get back on track, she figured: more coffee.
Another review. She was a bit distracted but got the gist of it. No improvement in her work, even fewer responsibilities, essentially demoted to a secretary. She knew she should be angry, but she was clear headed enough to admit her mind hadn’t been exactly on productivity as of late. With all the guys hitting on her, how could she concentrate on boring, hard forms? Besides, she had the clothing thing eating up her limited capacity. Had she put on weight? She didn’t think so, but her blouses felt so tight around her chest… could one hit a second growth spurt in her twenties? She didn’t know. Maybe. She felt too dumb to think about it in depth. What she knew were two things: she needed new clothes, and more coffee.
Her shopping spree revealed her titties (such a fun word!) had grown a whole cup. Well, it was an opportunity to get cute new clothes to tease the boys and girls! Shorter skirts, tighter blouses, higher heels… All colors, all styles—mostly for work and a few for daily wear. After all, she needed sexy clothing for the gym, for when she went out, for feeling hot at home. She was now aware of men staring everywhere, and they deserved something nice to look at. And fuck it, she was hot. She looked at her body in the mirror as she tried on new outfits. Her baby blue eyes, her soft skin, her tight, alluring curves… no wonder they all wanted to fuck her! Maybe…
Donna Roth’s stint as a secretary was a particular one. There was a voice inside her, a tiny, screaming, desperate reminder of who she had been. The coffee made it smaller and weaker, so she had more coffee. It made her happy. The guys and girls hitting on her made her happy. Not having to worry about all that boring hard stuff made her happy. Sure, she was supposed to be picking up the phone, but she was rarely at her desk. Nobody complained about the ringing phone. Donna could be found in closed meeting rooms, bent over a desk, drooling and moaning as a cute man emptied his balls deep inside her; she could be found at the women’s bathroom, licking and kissing with wild, mindless abandon; she could be found out back where people snuck off to smoke, on her knees worshiping a cock as its owner relaxed with a nice cigarette and blowjob combo. And of course, she could be found getting coffee.
Word spread like wildfire, as it often does in office settings. People from other departments started visiting Donna’s floor, and she was all too happy to offer her holes to them. After all, that was what she was: a hot body to be used, tits and holes to be fondled and fucked and recorded on phones and coated in cum. It was her calling, her purpose and her bliss.
Her final performance review was glowing. Donna giggled and felt her heart about to burst with joy. They praised the way she raised morale in the office, how she reduced stress, how she made a better working space for everyone. Of course, she had to be thankful for such kind words, and the review panel showed its satisfaction with her performance by leaving stains on her blouse, her jacket, her stockings. She walked out wearing them with pride and savoring her new job title. Office Stress Relief Specialist. She smiled, grabbed another cup of coffee and dove straight into her new duties.