Making my boss my slave
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I hand my boss his coffee, and try to keep a poker face as he takes a big sip. I learned yesterday he’s the reason I’m not getting a promotion in the company because he wanted to keep me as his errand boy. Well that stops today. No more coffee runs. No more meaningless errands. He eyes the zippered bag I’m holding. He thinks it’s his suit that I was to pick up from the dry cleaners. It’s not. It’s his new uniform. He drops the coffee cup and the drink splashes to the floor. Thankfully, it just takes a sip for it to work. “I feel…funny,” he slurs, putting a hand to his head. He stumbles, but I steady him and say, “Oh, I’d better get you to a doctor.” He tries to argue, but the drug affects the brain first, making him compliant and docile. The physical transformation begins on the way to my apartment. It confuses him rather than freaks him out, and he quickly begins playing with his new developing curves. In my apartment I unzip the bag and hand him the lingerie. He doesn’t argue when I tell him to put it on in my bedroom. I wait a few minutes, then join him. He’s on my bed, fingering his new pussy. “Hey,” he giggles. “I’m all wet down here! See!” He holds up his new feminine finger, showing off his arousal, then pops it into his mouth and tastes himself. “I’m so horny! Will you help me? You can fuck me however you want.” He was a shitty boss, but he’s going to make a fantastic sex slave.