Richelle and Hector (Sci-Fi Gender Transformations)

[CelebrityChanger]

Richelle and Hector

By Celebrity Changer

Honestly, this is watching Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde and reversing the significant characters' sex. Making it modern. Changing some of the plot, but otherwise leaving it as scene to scene jumpy as the movie.

**********

May’s pre-dawn warmth filled the air throughout a brightly lit Washington DC city scape.

The home for Dr. Richelle Jackson.

She grew up with a keen curiosity for science. She excelled in such classes, notably chemistry, and aimed to be a worker in the STEM fields when she graduated from Georgetown.

Richelle was particularly fond of experimentation, discovering things through her own work. She’d have as much fun tinkering on something at home, or in a lab, as she would in going out for the evening.

As much as Richelle got to work on experiments her mind spent most of the time unfulfilled. She was currently stuck in a job that wasn’t looking very promising the longer she stayed at it. So she would spend more of her evenings continuing in her domestic experimentation. And it wasn’t doing wonders for her love life.

Her fiancé was being neglected. A man she truly loved.

And her scientific tinkerings weren’t very interesting so far.

Richelle was frustrated and so was Stephen, her fiancé. Not to mention Stephen was a bit pissed off.

Richelle was at home, makeshift lab humming, a pen in her mouth as she ‘worked.’ Her strapping fiancé came down the apartment stares to voice his latest concern.

“Richelle, it’s 5 am.” Stephen had a tone of concern mixed with annoyance. “You’ve got to get to bed. We have to be up at 6. Come on, you’re obsessed.”

Richelle begrudgingly left to follow Stephen back up the stairway, knowing that even though she was going to bed it would only be for about an hour. She should have just stayed up, she thought.

While dressing, later around 6:30am, Richelle noted a television channel that for some reason had an old black and white showing of the 1941 movie “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

“We have to be obsessed, you know,” she called back to the obsessed comment from over an hour ago. Richelle, a tall woman compared to her peers, finished putting on her clothes. She wore a long blue skirt – and a sleeveless blue shirt that showed the top of her chest. It hid her cleavage however. A black dress coat completed her business attire and matched her dark, yet conservatively lengthed hair. Her hair reached her shoulders bit went only an inch or so further. She was thin, yet sexy; and Richelle could show it without looking provocative.

“I was obsessed with science and it got me into college. He’s obsessed,” she pointed at the screen.

“Yeah but he screwed up.”

“I know, he still learned though. Who knows what else can be discovered.” She then thought of her days spent in the Men’s Wellness Center. “If I truly were that obsessed I wouldn’t be wasting my life at that wellness center.”

Stephen was putting on a button shirt, and quickly responded “You’re a brilliant scientist, Richelle.” He matched the appearance of Richelle well. Young like her, both still in their mid-thirties. He was lean and taller than the tall Richelle, but by only about two inches, he had a smattering of facial hair that added a bit of smolder to his look.

“I help geezers get boners, Stephen.” She motioned to the TV, “That’s science.”

“Well come along Dr. Jackson, or else we’re going to be late for this auction.” Stephen said as he grabbed his phone, and headed toward the stairs

**********

They had been driving down a country road for quite some ways. All in the aim of heading to the auctioning off of a defunct science lab’s building and possessions. It was in Richelle’s hometown, outside DC, and it also used to be a museum for science. She was last there when she was 13, and she wanted to see if any trinkets from the old displays were there. Perhaps even some equipment for her home lab.

And after she got there she realized the old place really did contain some nice artifacts. But she kept being outbid.

Richelle wasn’t rich, but she definitely thought she’d be able to afford something.

Be it the growing indifference of the crowd who’d outbid her on the impressive equipment, or be it that what remained was less appealing, Richelle was finally able to bid on something. She began with a bid of $10 on what was listed as “archives of past work,” which turned out to only be a small box of thumb drives and disks, plus a notebook or two.

It was sad to see this place that helped instill her scientific curiosity crumble away like this, and it was worse that see wasn’t able to bring much of it back home with her.

In the end no one else bid on that selection.

***********

Later that day Richelle arrived at the Men’s Wellness Office for a shift beginning in the late morning. She was still wearing the clothes from the auction, if only switched to more comfortable shoes. At the lobby elevator Richelle pushed the up button, only to be met with the doors opening and a sudden sound of anxious movement within the elevator. Inside a good looking yet perfectly anonymous young man hurried out into the lobby from the elevator, and the sheepish yet sly grin of her friend/colleague Patricia was still inside.

Patricia was notably shorter than Richelle. She was…adventurous, you could say. Looking more like a pixie than the larger Richelle, her short cut hair gave her a younger appearance. Patricia nonetheless was a confident woman who really liked to “fraternize” with the good-looking men at this wellness center.

Even, at times, the men who came into the place for appointments; if she thought she could get away with it.

Richelle smiled at Patricia, noting the smaller woman was straightening her clothes a bit and said “good morning” through her smirk.

The door closed and they rode up together.

During the quick walk through the upper levels of the building, on the way to her office, Richelle chit chatted with Patricia. She’d noted how Patricia at times liked to wink at some of the men in the office as they passed by.

It was definitely a shot in the arm for Richelle to be friends with such a spirit as Patricia, to hear her tales and see her aggression with the not so fair sex. Didn’t always help her get through the day, though.

Like today, there was a meeting with Mr. Unger. He was the CEO of this series of MWCs up and down the east coast, and they were in today to discuss future drugs for their field. Richelle had been working on performance enhancements in the athletics division. She was tasked with helping activate certain hormone levels in such a natural way that it gets results without throwing off sensors that professional athletes might have to deal with by their governing bodies.

Mrs. Metz, an often-bewildered woman of a certain age who also worked as Richelle’s supervisor, was also present.

What occurred was a long monologue by Mr. Unger about how little progress is being made on the PED front. It went into other avenues of the business, from weight loss to fat reduction, mental sharpness, to libido increasing drugs.

He even waxed poetic about what it meant for this firm to be having so many women working on these drugs. Richelle would defend her work, but it only drew more scorn in the vein of it being better for a man to be working on it. As if somehow he’d know chemistry better than her.

Whatever.

**********

That night, Richelle and Stephen took time to help each other out after their long days. Stephen suggested that Richelle needed a break, and they walked out onto their balcony. Richelle lamented on the fact Stephen was a successful lawyer, and she was more of a failure.

“Come on, you’re not a failure.”

They were both in pajamas, hers blue, his just a white shirt and shorts.

“I’ve been working in male enhancement for years, with little to show for it. I’m a failure.”

“Richelle, if you were a total failure why do I want to marry you?"

She thought for a witty response and was reminded of something men brag about, but flipped it for her.

“Cause I got good pussy.”

Stephen laughed. “Seriously though, I’m hardly noticed at the men’s wellness clinic. For a living, I get guys slightly thinner through drugs.”

“Richelle, it’s a start.”

“It’s more of a damned end. I graduated near the top of my class for Christ sake.”

“Exactly. And you were the youngest chemist employed by Alexion. And you were head hunted by Bristol Myers.”

“It’s Bristol Myers Squibb.”

“If you want to know the truth, they only fired you for being a bit aggressive.”

Richelle’s hand crept down toward Stephen’s groin.

“I’ll show you aggressive,” and she grinned.

**********

Richelle would go to pick up the stash she won at the auction the next day. Looking around the place again brought back memories, but one of the older workers of the place is who brought her to the storage area. Boxes were everywhere.

The attendant gave her the box of past work, and Richelle gave it a gander. It was certainly dusty. What was odd was the attendant suggest she be careful with the information. Allegedly they once were working on some interesting stuff regarding the hormone levels and sex of laboratory animals.

This interested Richelle and she wondered if something might be useful in her work.

And she broke out the drives, notebooks and stuff later that night, in the lab of the men's wellness clinic.

In her reading and studying of the material she logged in her journal that the past workers did stumble upon potent improvements toward the sexual characteristics of the lab animals. In most cases they could replicate puberty of tested animals, and on a chromosomal level the animals were improved markedly. Even the chromosome determining sex found changes.

Richelle took note of how this research may actually find a way to help some men find improvements in their vigor and manliness as they enter…a certain age.

Richelle set to work right there, and began tests of her own using the very materials she now possessed. With the added benefit of the chemicals at her employer’s laboratory/storage, she set to craft a new drug that would revolutionize the Men’s wellness industry.

Th older notes made mention of catalysts, synthetic drugs that somehow instigated the significant changes in the animals. She had the materials to create the drug she was thinking of in the company’s lab. She then increased the concentration of the catalysts to work for a man, as well as increasing the levels of androgen compounds – especially testosterone. That was the granddaddy of the androgens, and if this was going to work like she thought it would for men - then she’d need to up the testosterone doses to recreate the virile fire of late teens male puberty.

For the next several hours she created the drug.

By 3:30 am Richelle had finished. The drug, with a brilliant dark blue hue to it, was finished. Without any other person in the building to test this on, Richelle chose herself. Familiar with what would happen to -prolonged- exposure to drugs she thought were like the one she created, she knew nothing drastic would happen to her. Still, she could measure her body’s responses, if only faintly.

After taking the drug in her hands, admiring its blue color while behind the small glass container, Richelle quickly downed it. Noting that it didn’t have much of a taste. Wasn’t good tasting, but just not bad either.

Richelle spent the next few minutes cleaning up the lab, putting away her materials and notes back in her office. In nothing the early hour, she then walked up to the couch that was in her office and laid down. She set her phone’s charger in the nearby socket, and turned the phone's alarm to 7am. She had had all-nighters before, and Stephen knew she was okay in her office as she let him know she was there.

**********

The alarm went off quite on time and Richelle began to get up, still in her clothes from last night. She was beginning to walk around her office, aiming to head out into the hallway and fetch some coffee…when alertness suddenly came to her.

She had completely forgotten about a job interview.

A very important one with Dr. Manning.

With rapidity Richelle dashed into the shower near her office, and took the quickest shower of her life. From there she went to her office’s closet, where she had some nice backup clothes. She pulled out a few pieces and quickly got dressed, trying her damnedest to be Ubering to her interview by 8.

**********

The older Dr. Manning, a woman into her 60’s but sharp as a tack, waited impatiently.

The restaurant that she’d be meeting the prospective Richelle Jackson at was just beginning to bustle, as it usually did around 8am in the cityscape of D.C.

The grey-haired woman’s face perked up a bit as she heard a woman’s voice from out of nowhere say “Dr. Manning! Good morning,” and a hand was thrust in her direction to shake and a brief hand shaking occurred, “I’m Dr. Richelle Jackson. I’m sorry I’m past 8 but the Uber driver got caught up in burdensome traffic.”

The end of the sentence was cut off by Dr. Manning saying “Punctuality and self-discipline are qualities highly prized in my company, Dr. Jackson. If you don’t have them we don’t want you.”

Richelle, taken briefly aback but still calm, shifted a bit in her black Calvin Klein single button stretch blazer. Beneath was a white V-neck, and her tight one button tab-front CK black slacks completed a stylish business look that nonetheless loudly spoke of her femininity.

“Well Dr. Manning I assure you...”

“And the only thing we take less kindly to than tardiness is brown nosing yes women.”

“Uh,” Richelle smiled and attempted to take hold of the conversation, “Why don’t we order something.” Richelle turned and raised her hand to gain the attention of a waiter.

A young 20 something waitress was quick to appear at the table, offering a beverage. “Coffee, ladies?”

First went Dr. Manning, “Warm water, slice of lemon.” The waitress turned to Richelle.

“Mrs.?”

“Black, keep it coming.” As much as Richelle wanted to get through this moment she also wanted the surge of alertness that the fresh coffee would bring.

There the waitress bent over near Richelle to grab the table’s empty cup. Unfortunately, a person walking nearby bumped into the waitress’s arm – spilling some of the coffee over Richelle’s jacket and shirt.

The waitress stumbled out apologies and made a quick run to get some cloth. Richelle tried to not bother the waitress and in doing so took off her wet blazer. Some coffee had even landed on her white v neck, thankfully not on her skin to do any burning. The miscolorization was apparent, the stain clear to see. But Richelle tried to laugh it off and asked Dr. Manning “Where were we.”

“I was about to come to the point,” Dr. Manning’s sternness still was cutting. “Dr. Jackson, your career has been a model of suicidal mismanagement. Which only makes you fit for the sort of scientific wasteland you now find yourself in.”

“Well, I wouldn’t describe it as…” Richelle began to say sheepishly.

“So, I want you to explain to me why I should give you a laboratory, a research team…” she was counting these off on her fingers, “and a salary of over $95 thousand a year…”

Dr. Manning let that last part hang in the air, and smiled waitingly.

Richelle’s eyes began to widen a bit. She was slowly processing that amount of money.

“Ninety-five…” at that moment Richelle’s body had a sudden rush. Her internal temperature began to rise, and the air felt warm to her out of nowhere. Her chin dipped as she stopped talking, this flushed feeling even finding a way to invade her head. She squinted a bit in her pause.

The intense sensation seemingly danced above her brain, but below her skull, and raced toward her spinal column. Her head then went up and back slowly, Richelle’s eyes shutting.

Her mouth hung open.

She moved her head back to look at Dr. Manning…in time to note that in opening her eyes her vision was stunningly blurry. She squinted and unsquinted, repeatedly, trying to focus her vision.

Her vision slowly returned to her and focused on a surprised looking Dr. Manning, who then wondered aloud “Are you alright, Dr. Jackson?”

“No, I’m fine,” she muttered, nearly low enough for Dr. Manning to not hear it, her tricky vision still not fully returned.

“Well, I’m still waiting to hear why you’re our woman.” The tone seemed to highlight the word woman at that moment, near ominously.

Settled inside Richelle’s larynx, a transformation began to take place. In her voice box Richelle’s womanly vocal folds began to slightly lengthen. Slightly thicken. They began at a modest 10 millimeters in length, and lengthened to 11. Then to 12.

The change happened with a tickle in Richelle’s throat, and she noticed it right as she began to say “Well…” she paused as the tickle surged a bit, letting out a cough to clear her throat, noticing the slight oddness to her voice. It sounded a little bit lower than normal. Her vocal folds thickened more, and lengthened again, 12 to 13, then to 14 millimeters. Her womanly throat began to somehow show a larger voice box.

“Well you won’t find…” still oddly deep, and a persistent tickle. She moved her left hand to her throat, eyes opening slightly wider when feeling more of a lump than she thought she find. She coughed harder.

“Because you won’t find a scientist…” she looked down as she grumbled that last bit out. Her voice still oddly low, deep. She went to grab her nearby table orange juice, left hand still on her throat. She hunched over as she downed a swig or two.

Another warm rush washed over her, and down her arms. Her eyes widened as she pulled her posture back, and held her right hand down and on the table next to the juice. Meanwhile Dr. Manning quickly turned her head to look down at Richelle’s right hand, her own eyes widening at what she began to see.

The shiny white of Richelle’s finger nails slightly dulled, then actually began to retract into her hand. Quickly leaving nothing more than a rounded, plain finger nail on each finger. Between the knuckles on her right hand, dark hairs grew out thick enough for the watcher to see.

The warm tingle surged again on her forearm, and she brought her arm up closer to her face to look at it. Her white V-neck’s woven blouse was short sleeved, and she could see her arm up to near her shoulder. The tingle gave way to an itch, and Richelle gulped with wide eyes in noting hair begin to thicken and lengthen on her arms. The fine, nearly bare hairs she had had were getting easier and easier to see, beginning to look unsightly on her long – feminine arms.

She’d have kept watching if the surge of sensation didn’t suddenly ripple from her stomach down to her lap. The jolt forced her hairy right arm down to her side, her mouth still open as she looked concerned off in the direction of Dr. Manning. She tried to sneak a peek down toward her lap.

A growing churning sensation was felt. It felt sort of like something was falling from her stomach down toward her groin. Her legs moved from their normal crossed style to an alert poise right next to each other. Richelle slowly moved her legs open and closed, then open again as this sensation was seizing her legs and front.

She looked up one more time at her interviewer, then quickly looked back down at the tight front of her business slacks – hairy hands and arms on her hips’ sides.

The most unnerving feeling of inversion crept into her groin as if her lady-parts were flipping inside out. A bulge appeared in her lap, and she felt flesh expand into her now aggressively tight panties. A deep gasp rushed from her boxy larynx, and she watched with horror as the bulge crept leftward into her pant leg, expanding with ugly size into a familiar shape. Her nervous shifting turned to tight budging, trying to make this comfortable – difficult as all this was with tight black women’s business slacks that now were trying to contain what just bloomed in her pants.

The bemused Dr. Manning asked a question, snapping Richelle out of her trance, “Well, Dr. Jackson?”

Richelle’s agonized, shocked face tried vainly to maintain the appearance of calmness. As discretely as possible Richelle brought both her hands to her crotch, the large fleshy tube she felt beneath the fabric pushed right back, and she now hurriedly began to unzip the front to feel this thing.

When she slipped a hand inside, Dr. Manning uttered an annoyed “It’s a bad time for you, Dr. Jackson.” Richelle's hand found a warm cylinder of flesh, and she -felt- her hand from nerves within that flesh.

“No,” she asserted, nearly sounding as feminine as she did when she came in to the restaurant. She continued her fidgeting as she tried to rezip her pants, which was difficult as it ever was with her lap contorting around a mass that shouldn’t be inside these womanly pants.

The question that followed out of Dr. Manning’s mouth, with its near shocked tone, caught Richelle off guard. “You’ve got short hair?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous” Richelle flatly said, but soon felt a tickle on her neck. Richelle literally felt her hair move upwards along her neck. Both her hands flew to the sides of her head, feeling more face than she expected to, before coming to grips with the fact that her hands were telling her that he hair was much shorter.

There happened to be a mirror near the table.

Richelle quickly turned left to look into the mirror and tried to make out the sight before her.

A short, manly cut swept back through her hair, getting even shorter near her ears as the hair receded into a tight buzz fade. Her hands looked less feminine, notable hair between her knuckles and on the back of her hands. Her sleek arms didn’t look womanly either, with thick male hair leading from her hands up under her short sleeves. The coffee stained woven V-neck remained, and Richelle let out another gasp in noticing the reflection's bulge in her lap, nearly concealed by the chair’s arms.

Richelle quickly turned back to Dr. Manning, and began to stammer through her sentence about why she desperately needed to leave.

“I’ve got to go, I’m not really feeling myself,” but that was cut off by the young waitress quickly reappearing to help fix the spilled coffee situation.

“I’m so sorry,” the young woman said, placing her left hand on the back of Richelle to keep her steady, stopping Richelle from getting up, and beginning to move the folded cloth in her right hand to the coffee stain on Richelle’s stlyish top.

The cloth met right at the bottom of Richelle’s right breast, the rise or her bosom being slightly pushed in by the young waitress’s efforts at wiping away the coffee. That’s when Richelle felt another sudden rush, right where the young woman her prodded right breast…and it quickly deflated beneath the waitress’s touch.

The right side of Richelle’s coffee soaked shirt, and the bra beneath, collapsed onto a flat chest – the waitress yanking her hand back as if she accidently stabbed Richelle. Richelle let out a shocked, and near manly yelp as she looked down at the absence of her right tit.

Her alarmed face hung mouth wide open right back up at Dr. Manning, her hairy left hand/arm at her face.

“It’s uh, an allergic reaction,” was the best excuse she scrambled for as both the waitress and Dr. Manning looked at Richelle suspiciously.

Then another humiliating rush met the left side of her chest, and the three women looked down in shock as Richelle’s remaining breast deflated to flat nothingness.

Dr. Manning got out a surprised “Dr. Jackson..?..”

Her hairy hands tried to cup her chest, only finding loose V-beck material and empty bra cups. “I’ve..got…”

She looked directly at Dr. Manning…” I’ve got to go.”

Richelle grabbed her blazer and ran out of the restaurant leaving both women back at the table looking as if they’ve seen a ghost.

**********

Arriving in an Uber back at the lab, Richelle agonized as she got out of the back of the car. A pained yelp escaped her lips as she hunched over the car, the pain of her spinal column and hip bones changing.

She turned from the car, running toward the building with a manly trot. Onlookers observed the hairy man with the fade cut running into the building, oddly wearing the unflatteringly tight clothing of a business woman.

**********

Spilling into the laboratory, Richelle nearly collapsed on a counter. With great effort she started pulling herself toward the bathroom, as a security camera looked on.

On the camera feed, a man looked to be staggering through the lab - struggling to move while in woman’s clothes. The figure began disappearing toward the bathroom.

At the bathroom sink, Richelle stumbled over toward the counter, a manly groan emanating from her throat – through a voice box with thick, 17-millimeter-long vocal folds. She contorted as more seizing took her body. Then she could look into the mirror.

Her focus deepened and eyes widened. She took in her newly shaped neck, and her manly short haircut. She looked at her imploded chest, flat with a nascent growth of hair across it, and at her hairy arms, which themselves had thickened with muscle since the restaurant. Then she looked at her pants.

A gasp escaped her as she looked at its grotesque (for a woman) shape bulging her slacks’ front. She looked back up into the mirror and noticed the obviously shaped swelling staring back at her. In a flash of the moment she ripped open the button on the slacks and the zipper split downwards…exposing a thick, lengthy penis and scrotum which had escaped the confines of her panties down an open leg hole.

Deep breaths continued to increase in pace as Richelle drank in the sight of her rapidly masculinizing form…then…

[jojohyde]

Fantastic work! Truly outstanding. Capturing the feel of the original while flipping the gender perfectly.

Love it love it love it!!!!

[CelebrityChanger]

As a fellow fan of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde, I appreciate that. Now on to the next scene...discovery.

[Junketh71]

Wow! This was very fun to read!

[CelebrityChanger]

Picking up where the story is left off, Patricia finds a new person in the lab.

**********



Late for a meeting, Patricia Walston quickly headed toward the company lab. She had often found Richelle there in the mornings working on stuff, and she imagined that Richelle would be there right now.


Opening the door and stepping into the lab, Patricia walked down a couple of steps.



“Richelle…come on now..”



Patricia didn’t see anybody but she kind of heard a faint noise. Like a shower running.



“Richelle…come on we’re late for that meeting.” The sound of a shower persisted, and Patricia realized it.



Stepping toward her right and deeper into the lab the noise Patricia heard became clearer - louder. Patricia slowly turned and looked toward the lab’s bathroom. Then she realized indeed the shower was running inside the bathroom. Patricia began walking toward it. She figured Richelle must be the one in the shower.



“Whattaya doing, getting clean?”



No immediate answer. Patricia neared the door.



“Come as you are, woman. Come on, whattaya doing.” Patricia reached the door and opened it – stepping inside.



The door, with Prep Room posted across it, almost hit the inside wall. Patricia was immediately met with a thick, steamy atmosphere. The sound of hot water running was much louder now. She did a bit of a double take at the sudden temperature and humidity change from the lab to inside the Prep Room. Then, to her right, she looked toward the shower.



In observing what was in the shower, Patricia’s face slowly went into a daze.



Through the haze of the prep room she could see through to the shower glass. And through the shower glass she could see a shape. The shape of a man, shrouded in steam but still a man. He was… well-built.



This strapping, manly shape was thoroughly washing himself. The body finished a run through his hair before turning and presenting the hint of a pleasing looking behind and back. He wasn’t overly muscled, but his shoulders were quite broad compared to the trimness of his torso. And Patricia could quickly observe definition to his arms.



Patricia quickly looked back out the door with a smile on her face, to check if anyone was coming around. There wasn’t any one. Then she turned her head back to the occupant of the shower, her grin widening. She chuckled to herself in delight of what she was witnessing.



The man in the shower kept a steady back and forth under the water, hands rubbing over his body in a way that was already instigating signals further south in Patricia’s body. She slowly looked over the impressively sculpted chest, and lean arms – hoping to glance a peek at something else…but the shower’s steam and this man’s angles kept foiling Patricia’s hopes of seeing what he was packing.



Patricia began to slightly bite her bottom lip, then the man in the shower appeared to finish. He turned around and reached for the dials, turning the water off. Then this mystery man turned back toward the glass’s entrance pushing at the door. The door opened, and an even greater rush of steam entered the Prep Room.



Out of the shower stepped the legs and body of a slender seeming Adonis. Not that Patricia knew for sure, as this form was still hinted at through the steam.



Her eyes began to dip lower waiting on the air to clear, a tingle increasing within her as a building lust pulled her eyes lower.



The air began to clear enough that she could fully see the nude man before her. Patricia’s eyes nearly went slack in observing this form.



It was like she stumbled upon an Armani model’s shower. The short, wet hair framed a gorgeously handsome face. His features were chiseled – but borderline androgynous. There was something about his face that almost looked familiar. Familiar, but it just brooded in a stare back at her, deadpan but smoldering.



Patricia’s bit lip opened, and her jaw began to drop as she started to look down again. It followed down the meaty, yet oddly thin torso before settling on the man’s groin.



An amazed but near quiet “wow” uttered from Patricia’s lips as she drank in this person’s manhood.



A slight, laughable gasp left his mouth, followed by a bemused smirk that crept over the man’s face.



The man watched this young woman just ogle in wonder at his penis. A droplet of water rolled down that glorious length…ending at its tip where it collected and grew. The surface tension failed after a second or two, the large droplet falling from the tip that was already half way between his knees and his groin. Patricia’s eyes slowly went back up his body.



“Are you gonna just stand there and stare at me, or are you gonna hand me that towel?” The smooth, manly voice asked.



The subtle motion toward the towel jostled the man’s junk.



Taking another half second to fully absorb this sight Patricia stumbled for a response, then came up with a silly little “I’m gonna…stand here and stare at you.”



Another second past, this man holding Patricia’s eye contact with a slight smile. Patricia then blurted out a “Just kidding!” She looked down again. Then turned, looking back again, and reached for the towel hanging on the wall.



Patricia then closed some of the distance to hand over the towel, again holding her gaze down.



This strange, sexy man reached for the towel and grabbed it from Patricia. Then he pulled it behind his back to begin drying there, enjoying his ability to overpower Patricia’s senses.



Patricia playfully asked if he needed anything scrubbed….



**********



Leaning over Richelle’s desk, Patricia looked toward the man in her chair.



“Ok this may be a silly question, but who are you?”



Thumbing through Richelle’s work computer, the strange hunk suddenly looked surprised. His mouth opened and out uttered a befuddled “I’m uh..” then he began to look around.



On the screen was a tabbed website that was discussing a previous world cup, and players on the Mexico team. Quickly a name appeared in his vision, and the man decided upon a name for himself.



“Hector…Hector Hyde. I’m Dr. Jackson’s new assistant.” Hector finished the comment looking slightly away from Patricia, and biting on a nail of his.



Immediately skeptical of this albeit smolderingly sexy stranger, Patricia called his bluff. “Oh, really, where’s Richelle?”



Deliberately avoiding Patricia’s piercing eye contact, Hector clicked away at Richelle’s desktop. “She went home, worked all night. She needed some sleep.”



Patricia almost threw her hands in the air in frustration. Then she looked down, then around Richelle’s desk Patricia began to walk toward Hector. “I bet she did indeed, but, where would your clothes be?”



She asked in a tone the definitely seemed serious but, as she stopped over Hector’s right shoulder she leaned over…and looked down at the tight white science coat clinging to Hector’s lithe masculine frame – anxiously waiting Hector’s answer.



Hector paused, his mouth open trying to find answer but eyes locked toward the computer screen and not at Patricia. With a near instant head turn to the left, Hector moved his head to the right and toward Patricia, only slightly glancing at her lips before meeting her eyes to say “I spilled coffee on them.”



Patricia, looking into Hector’s eyes muttered an “Ohh,” then as she finished that Hector pushed into Patricia’s inquisition by asking the young woman “Where are the reports on the new test samples?”



Patricia didn’t want to be caught off guard. “Oh new test samples? They’d be right here.” She held out a brown folder she had brought in, and Hector began to reach for it – but Patricia yanked it back away.



She looked off toward the roof and said “Uhh I’ll tell you what,” and paused. “Seeing as the young pussycat is not around, and you are looking as fresh as a peach cobbler pie,” Patricia had been alternating her direction from looking over to the door to looking over Hector’s virile body, “Why don’t I shut the door, close the blinds, and help you go over some of the more difficult sections.”



Hector’s bemused smirk pierced right through the smile of Patricia’s lusty come ons.



“You really wouldn’t mind,” he asked.



“No no, I wouldn’t mind at all..”



At that moment a fine watery mist from a spray bottle sprung on to Patricia, startling her and interrupting her come on. Hector literally sprayed her like a house cat that had done something bad (as obviously Patricia very much wanted to be doing something bad right now).



Patricia backed away slightly frustrated, a tiny bit embarrassed at her forwardness, and with the sensation that Hector was now successfully pulling the folder out of her hand.



“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Patricia.” Hector’s voice didn’t have so much of a tone of scorn as much as a tone of superiority. Almost like he was mocking Patricia’s clear advances.



Patricia began to wipe herself off.



………





Yvette DuBois sat at her desk, looking suspiciously at notes on the latest fat burning formula.



A bit heavy set herself, and with a short, spiky hair style betraying her lesbianism, she hardly reacted when the door of her office was knocked on. A snooty “Entrez” escaped her mouth.



The door opened, Dubois didn’t even react. But a smooth tone of a man asked “Mme Dubois?” This caused Dubois to react as she turned her head up…and double taked at the man in her doorway. Her mind continued to open at this man, and a beginning of a novel feeling took hold as the man continued “I’m Dr. Jackson’s new assistant, Hector Hyde.”



He rolled into the room with a confidence that, like his rippling body pressing against the too tight lab coat, almost entranced the older woman who’d never felt such a presence from a man.



He moved the folder from both hands into just the left, outstretched his right. “Enchanté.”



DuBois couldn’t help herself and took the hand to shake, “Oh I assure you the pleasure is all mine.”



The man smiled. “Yvette Dubois, what an honor. When I attended the Mouratoglou Academy you were regarded as something of a legend.”



The flattery moved Dubois to bashfulness.



And Dubois noticed just how much Hector’s eyes drew low on her frame.



“But I mustn’t waste your time. Oh, and Richelle was out of the office today and she was most insistent I give you this.” Hector handed over the folder.



“Well I,” Dubois was trying a little harder than normal to sound authoritative and charming around a man, “I certainly can’t fault her for some of her more recent decisions.” When saying recent Dubois seemed to press her vision right through Hector’s strapping upper body. His smile wasn’t helping matters for Dubois as she slightly warmed.



“Merci Monsieur,” Yvette finished.



Hector’s smile deepened but he began to turn out. “Anyway, thank you for your time. I’ll be in toe.” He reached the door, opened it, flashing the smile one more time at Dubois.



After the door shut behind Hector’s exit, Dubois frustratingly sat down at the desk again. She immediately searched for her pack of nicotine gum, and popped one in.



She then quickly began texting her therapist friend.



The warmth in her lap hadn’t subsided yet.



After a few back and forths about what transpired over the past couple minutes, Dubois finally responded – “20 years of picking your brain and I start liking boys? That’s malpractice.”

………..



Walking down a sidewalk of a busy DC street, Hector was pondering his life. Pausing for a moment he looked down at his masculine hands that were stretching out of the sleeve’s of Richelle’s lab coat.



It was amazing. He had a strong sense of self, of an independent manly self. But he could easily recall all the knowledge Richelle could. From every bit of science knowledge, down to how it felt when Stephen penetrated her. He felt powerful this way. Confident. Knowing what it’s like to be a woman and a man – but fully male centric.



With his knowledge he felt sure that in two weeks, he’d own this company.



Then he looked toward the storefront he was next to. It sold upscale men’s clothing. And in noting he had nothing to wear for himself – he thought that first he’d start with that suit.



Over the next hour or so Hector toured the men’s clothing store, looking at impressive clothing selections and even getting fitted. He even smirked at the tailor during the inseam measuring, having to compensate for his generous package down his right leg.



At the register Hector met a dilemma. Fumbling through a small wallet, Richelle’s wallet, there were only representations of Richelle Jackson. Quietly, Hector found Richelle’s otherwise non-descript American Express.



After the relative excursion through that shop, Hector enjoyed walking through DC. A self-assured stride.



……….



Olivia Mitchell looked at her cellphone for a brief second, then tucked it into her small purse. A woman of 44, she wore a fashionable suit that fit to her form. One button brought the jacket together below her modest breasts, a white blouse exposed to the world beneath a pearl necklace. She was subconsciously channeling her favorite presidential candidate, Kamala Harris.



Her hair had lost the volume and shine of her 20s, but her shoulder length waves tried to look their best regardless.



She was waiting next to the lobby elevator, only to notice the arrival of a stranger. A man. The man, lengthy but with fetching muscles, pushed the elevator button.



He pulled right up to Olivia, never even looking her way – his sensual presence began to invade Olivia’s mind.



Awkward seconds passed, and Olivia made a glance or two in the direction of the new man. This must be the new person, the new assistant, that was being spoken of around the building. Slowly, the two adults had their gazes meet. And Hector looked deep into Olivia’s eyes, a grin showing on his face.



“Excuse me, am I right in thinking you’re Mr. Hyde?”



The Hector smile deepened slightly. With knowledge in his head, Hector responded “Mrs. Mitchell…I’ve seen your picture in Sports Business Journal, but you look so much younger in person.” His teeth showed with the smile.



The flattery left Olivia with a smirk. And a rush she even felt in her torso.



“Well uh, Dr. Dubois just gave me Richelle’s report. And you can tell him from me it’s, excellent.” Olivia’s pupils dilated as they drank in Hector’s face. “She’s finally getting somewhere on this. And that section on male preferences was..superb.”



Hector cocked his head, “Actually I added that part myself. I hope you don’t mind.”



“Mind? Mo, no..no. No, don’t mind.” Olivia paused, “Welcome aboard.”



Hector extended his hand as Olivia did. She looked down as their hands met and in that moment she could observe the tight dress pants Hector was wearing.



She observed his enticingly large bulge.



Their eyes met again and Hector said “Thank you,” before walking into the elevator. Olivia’s mouth slightly opened as her eyes followed his rear, his trim waist, and broad shoulders.



……..



The brightly lit corridor easily lit the way for Hector’s walk toward Richelle’s office.



Right outside Richelle’s office was the workstation of her actual assistant, Vince.



Vince, a black former defensive lineman hired at the company after his Georgetown football career ended, was browsing along through the internet checking scores. It was in between lunch and the end of his day so he was building a sizable tension with boredom. The boredom was snapped by a male voice behind him.



“Vincent?”



Vince turned around to look at this young, sharply dressed man. “Yes?”



“I don’t want to interrupt you knowing how busy you are, but Dr. Jackson wanted you to have this.”



The man produced a clothing box, and Vincent took it…looking inside. His eyes opened wide. Inside was a Redskins, number 93 Jonathan Allen jersey. It fit Vince’s wants to a T, he was from the area, loved the Redskins, and as a former defensive lineman he was a fan of Jonathan’s.



“Whoooaaa what has gotten in to that woman?”



The former woman smiled and said “Richelle thought it was the least she could do, she had been pressuring you of late and she felt ashamed of it.” The smile on Vince’s face broadened. Then the man asked, “Can you buzz me in?”



Distracted by the jersey, Vince simply buzzed Hector right in.



As Hector neared Richelle’s office entrance, he could tell the legs of a familiar man propped up on Richelle’s desk. The man hadn’t yet reacted to Hector’s nearing proximity, and Hector decided to break the ice first. “Hi…Stephen.”



Stephen looked up. His face furrowed, and he tried to place this man in his mind. There was some familiarity there, almost like he had seen the face somewhere.



“I’m sorry…have we met?”



Hector played it off but took charge.



“Oh, I’m Richelle’s new assistant. Hector!” Hector extended his hand eagerly. Stephen was taken aback.



“Hi, uh...you wouldn’t happen to know where she is. Would you?” Hector turned his head to the right, seemingly stumped. Then some random location popped up in his head.



“Idaho. She’s in Idaho with a client.” Stephen slumped back in the chair. He didn’t really believe it.



“Idaho?”



“Mmhmm.”



Stephen internally scoffed, trying to digest this all.



Sometime later, Stephen and Hector found themselves sitting in Richelle’s office together, chatting. It hadn’t fully left his mind that Richelle could legit be on a trip to Idaho. And this new, objectively handsome assistant of hers out of no where wasn’t going to cool any vibes that her behavior of late may mean she had been doing something untoward.



“And you’re sure it’s not another man?”



Hector, having heard this pondering earlier, but holding back the knowledge it literally was another man – he being the man, assured Stephen, “Richelle loves you, Stephen. It’s just she’s been in such a mess with her work she’s forgotten how to live. How to love.”



“And she always has to make things so complicated.”



“She’s a woman,” Hector said, ironically.



“Exactly.”



“Well they’re all little girls really. All of them.” Stephen looked toward Hector a little more seriously before Hector continued. “Do you mind if I give you some advice?”



“No, in fact, in fact I feel like we’ve known each other for ages.”



Hector looked at Stephen for a few seconds to let it hang, then said “Move out for a while.”



“? What ? “



“Just for a couple weeks. Let her see how empty her life is without you in it.”



The moment lingered. Hector smiled.



A few minutes later both Stephen and Hector found themselves leaving the offices and on to the street. Stephen felt refreshed.



“Thanks, Hector. I really don’t think I’d have gotten through that without you.”



“Oh forget it. I just want you two to be happy.” Hector and Stephen shook hands right as an Uber pulled up. Stephen turned to get in to it. Then Hector added, “Hey, let’s catch up again soon.”



“Yeah man, that’d be great.” Stephen got in, and the door shut. Looking nearly wickedly self-assured, Hector watched as the car began to move away.



Then he was moved by a sudden head rush, and he cocked his head to the right as he inhaled deeply. Trying to compose himself, he noticed a tingly sensation race from the headrush down his arms. He pulled up his left hand and looked at it as he felt the prickles.



He turned it over, looked at the back, then the palm, and over again – gasping as it began to pulse. His fingers looked like they were thinning, becoming finer. At edge of them, his conservative nails began to stretch out.



He gasped again, his mouth open as he stared at a left hand that was rapidly becoming feminine.



Looking closer he noticed the hair on the back of his hand quickly retracted…leaving smooth, delicate features behind.



Hector’s hands were Richelle’s hands once again. And the tingling continued. Hector looked up, all over the street, embarrassed. Then he turned to quickly walk up the sidewalk.

[Vended]

Damn, that's one very well written story. And very original too. Excellent work! I sure look forward reading more of it. :]

[CelebrityChanger]

Sleek, womanly hands held a cell phone. Her fingers awkwardly punching buttons to arrange an Uber.

It was Richelle’s phone, and it was her hands. Those hands just happened to be exposed from under Hector’s shirt. The full-bodied Hector shuffled around the corner to distance himself from the departure point with Stephen, and luckily for Hector the ride was only a moment away.

A random shoulder passing by nudged him, he dropped the phone from his pretty hands. Thankfully it was saved by a strong case.

“Hey!” Hector replied to the person hurrying away, his voice quickly rising with a feminine crack. His eyes widened, and one of his womanly hands grasped his neck. A tingle worked from his neck downwards, a similar sensation moving backwards from his wrists.

A growing warmth took over beneath Hector’s sleeves. His arm hair briefly stuck outwards – then began to recede, pulling inside pores and diminishing away. The distinctness of his muscle mass quickly waned, and Richelle’s feminine suppleness asserted itself. A cramping followed in Hector’s lower abdomen. Standing on the sidewalk waiting for the Uber, Hector’s cramping changed into an odd pulling. Inside his torso, he felt a movement of tissue as his organs shifted. Some grew within him, and one organ shrank from his lap.

Hector’s legs pulled together, and he unconsciously moved his arms to cover a discomfort filled groin. Then he opened his legs again at another unnerving inward tug, looking off toward the street hoping the car would be right there. The tug felt like it was thieving his manhood – not untrue as he looked down toward the sizable bulge in his lap.

Hector’s lengthy swell dragged upwards, getting smaller - smaller - until no print was left at all. He clasped his lovely hands over the diminished bulge, signifying another battle lost to Richelle’s womanhood. His frown of dismay betrayed knowledge that more of himself would be lost to Richelle, very soon.

Why was this happening to him? Was the drug not permanent?

Could this be a one off, like an Aspirin dose? Would he ever return?

He was not Richelle! He was his own man!

Hector groaned as he thought about his own permeance, and he groaned again at the feminine mound beneath what used to be a fat penis bulge.

The discomfort of Richelle’s canal deepening within him caused another moan - her uterus reforming deep within his abdomen.

And the Uber arrived.

Without any pleasantries beyond a muffled “Hi” in his higher voice, Hector sat down in the back seat – the destination Richelle and Stephen’s apartment.

The driver looked toward Hector in his rearview mirror, nodded, then looked away right as Hector’s hair began to shift. His short hair briefly lengthened towards his ears, then Hector felt a tickle on his neck as a rush of voluminous tresses took over to his shoulders.

Hector wasn’t even to the next corner, and his hair had the full sheen and pattern of Richelle’s.

A womanly gulp came as he thought he was slipping away forever beneath the growing waves of Richelle’s sexy female form.

Hector’s trim, detailed stomach muscles shrunk – remaining toned but no longer manly. Unseen beneath his pants – Hector’s pubic and leg hair retreated into a smooth, feminine nakedness.

Arriving at the apartment building, Richelle’s voice uttered a panicked “thank you,” the driver turning to the voice and squinting as he saw long hair covering the man’s face as he got out. Or at least the driver assumed it was a man, the clothing looked much bigger on him now.

Hector doubled over outside the Uber, feeling his hips push out and his waist contract. He then dashed to the apartment’s door; Richelle’s butt having ASSerted itself - lightly jostling behind him.

Inside the lobby, a gentleman had been walking near the elevator. He noticed what he thought was Richelle going to the door, and she was squirming. She then got in and went up. He didn’t catch her face, but he did recognize her hair and her build.

Why she was wearing a man’s clothes was beyond him – but whatever.

Alone inside the elevator Hector felt small. Vulnerable. The wave of sensation was centering in his chest now, and the remainder of his chest hair pulled inwards. Right as the door dinged for “his” floor, “his” as it was Richelle’s apartment and Richelle’s pussy was adorning him, he felt the right side of his chest swell with a sudden supple form. Richelle’s right breast had rapidly filled out beneath his shirt.

Jogging to her door and opening it, an equally sudden swell grew on his left side. In a second, Richelle’s beautiful breasts were bobbing on Hector’s fully feminized chest.

Hector yanked his shirt off, then his belt and underwear after having tossed his shoes into Stephen’s closet. The clothes found their way into Stephen’s closet too, and Hector’s face began to feel warm and tingly as he dove into Richelle’s bed.

That bed had long familiarity with those trim, soft legs. It knew well the feel of Richelle’s butt pressing into it, and how her breasts lightly shifted around when she tossed and turned at night. It was feeling this again as Hector buried himself in sheets and a blanket – Richelle’s hair spilling around her abundantly female shoulders and neck.

Soft cries uttered from Richelle’s throat, Hector squeezing his eyes tight as he tried to force himself through still longer. He did so so forcefully that he passed out, right as his face softened and blossomed into Richelle’s.

She was whole again.




Through the evening and night, Richelle’s sleep was restless. She usually did not have dreams that were strong or vivid, but tonight she did.

The dream locations shifted, but they settled around her work.

One scene had her at her work’s lab shower. She was finishing a shower, and the warm mist filled the lab. But she didn’t feel alone, it felt like she was being watched. That started a growing thrill.

The thrill grew as Patricia came to her mind, her colleague was outside the shower and somehow trying to peek through the glass. Richelle wanted that; she wanted Patricia to be staring at her as she showered. To ogle her body. It made Richelle hard knowing she was teasing that petite and mousy brunette.

Richelle’s cock went rock hard, the full and glistening length soon dominating Richelle’s thoughts. She brought her strong hand to her manhood, gently pulling on her rod to the delight of Patricia in the near distance.

Richelle played this off like she was still unaware Patricia was peeping, tantalizing the horny woman with her stiff actions.

She mimicked a soap and suds session, her trim, hard body clearing just enough to be seen by Patricia. Richelle knew it was warming Patricia’s pussy. Richelle was proud to be making Patricia horny. Her motions picked up speed and she added light masculine moans to emphasize her enjoyment of this masturbatory session.

Richelle closed distance toward Patricia, toward the glass’s boundary, her manly legs powerfully beckoning, but her eyes remained down at her cock. A tension, ever so pleasurable, grew within Richelle’s lower body – her left hand reaching toward and landing on the glass right in front of Patricia’s mesmerized face.

Then Richelle orgasmed, her mind registering load after load of her semen splattering on the glass in front of a swooning Patricia. Patricia sunk to her knees. Her eyes (level to the sight of Richelle’s erupting cock) were wide, she had her hands in her lap and she was shaking from her own cumming while the thick, white loads accumulated in stringy plops.

Outside the dream world, Richelle’s womanly body quickly spasmed in her bed – wetness flooded her pussy as she was cumming from her wet dream. But she didn’t wake up.

After Richelle’s orgasm tapered off into a warm haze, her dreamscape continued with her now walking into Dubois’s office.

Dubois’s head perked up, not expecting a visitor but quickly moving from a brief shock to a muffled attraction. It was impossible not to note the strapping Richelle walking in. The lesbian’s eyes widened at sight of the lab coat Richelle was wearing, once again tightly holding Richelle’s masculine form. Dubois looked at Richelle’s chest, slightly hairy above the coat, muscular but not too bulky – admiring how tight this coat was on it.

She reached out to touch Richelle.

Richelle’s smooth, manly voice asked, “You like what you see?” with a knowing grin.

Dubois gulped, and nodded.

“Take a long, haard ..look.” Richelle said, the lab coat bunching at her lap where a quickly growing erection took command.

“I’m sure I can take something lonnng and haard,” Dubois muttered in an almost frustrated tone – her hands reaching to Richelle’s coat just at the knees, lifting its middle to release what lay behind.

A massive erection lightly bounced after the coat’s movements, beginning to throb after it settled. Two large testicles shown behind it, the left one hanging down slightly more. This trim, muscular Adonis had his abdominal “V” showing, and light pubic hair – enough to be manly but not too dense to obscure.

Dubois’s eyes widened, and she stared transfixed. “It’s glorious.”


Richelle knew Dubois liked men, and their resulting genitalia, about as much as a cat likes a dog.

But Richelle knew, in her dream, that Dubois was beginning to worship her cock as if it was the only thing which would quell her sudden heat. Dubois reached out for it, Richelle never having had a woman’s hand touch her cock before (not that she usually had one, but one gets the impression many more women were about to get their hands on her cock), but her own hand holding it in the shower wasn’t bad. This was better.

As Dubois’s elegant hand held it – Richelle shifted into heaven.

“There’s no cock like this anywhere…it’s like my sexual being is warped around this shaft.” Richelle took in this sudden change to Dubois’s sexuality - and lightly moaned in her masculine way as Dubois stared long at her dick.

“I..I don’t know where to begin with this thing.” Dubois licked her lips.

“Let your mouth have what it’s craving.”

The movement of Dubois’s hand on her cock spiked Richelle’s dream arousal even more, pre beginning to form and leak from her cock’s tip. It didn’t last long, as Dubois moved her head over Richelle’s cock. The warmth, the moistness, Dubois’s gentle lip movements of an inexperienced cock sucker – flooded Richelle’s mind with something she actually never could have empathetically felt before – but in the real world her slowly bucking hips and dripping pussy nonetheless showed her interest.

Even Richelle’s arms and hands, if uncoordinated, tried to lightly motion as if a phantom head was at her lap and she was positioning it to move better.

Dream Richelle delighted in Dubois’s movements, even though she thought this lesbian might have had enough of her cock, her warmth glistened the whole organ. Wrapped lips and sticky trails down to Richelle’s large testicles put the flicker deep inside her body and sexual soul. Richelle had this middle-aged lesbian sucking her off like a novice but eagerly horny teenager, and she could make her say anything.

In her deep tone Richelle looked down at Dubois and asked a simple question as she pistoned away, “This is your first time with a cock in your mouth…what do you want it to do…?”

“Cum..”in between sucks…”cum in my mouth.”

Richelle’s manly grin deepened, and as this was her dream – she got to the point.

Another orgasm blew through her penis, and Richelle felt burst after ropey burst shoot into Dubois’s mouth. That mouth was tight around this thick penis, it quickly grew like a bubble.

As the first splattery drips of white began at the sides of Dubois’s drawn-out lips, the second orgasm of Richelle’s wet dreams erupted in her lap. Juices continually gushed from her, leaking between the returned feminine shape of her butt. She squirmed, smearing her sheets with vaginal nectars as her dream shifted.

Richelle entered an elevator, right behind the rigidly proper Olivia. Olivia turned and looked ahead, a slight glance at the manly form of Richelle to her left. Richelle went to push an elevator button, pointedly asking Olivia “Where to, Ms. Olivia?”

“Going down, please.”

“Well, if you insist…” and Richelle lightly pulled Olivia at her shoulder. The stoic face of middle-aged upper management turned to surprise, as Olivia turned and faced Richelle heads up. Richelle reached her manly hands to Olivia’s chest, lightly gracing the swell as she brought those hands down towards the top of Olivia’s work pants. Her right hand palmed the smooth lap of Olivia, “Down here.” came Richelle’s masculine utterance.

Olivia’s face was inches below the eyeline of Richelle, she moaned at the manly touch. Richelle undid the button, pulling down the zipper quickly. Olivia’s conservative panties came into view atop the gap in the suit, and Richelle’s manly lust began to pull both garments down.

“Oh, Mr. Hydeee.” Olivia’s moan filled the elevator as Richelle used her hand in Olivia’s lap and her other hand at Olivia’s breasts to move her against the wall. Richelle unfastened her own pants, freeing her large member.

“Down and IN” Olivia insisted.

Richelle followed directions, lined up her impressive penis and pushed into Olivia’s pussy. Richelle used her left hand to squeeze Olivia’s right breast, her right hand to steady the woman with a firm grip of her left ass cheek, thrusting while leaning into Olivia’s neck. Placing her mouth right on the left side of Olivia’s neck, she kissed and sucked right as she felt another orgasm build.

With a manly, full grasp of Olivia’s form, Richelle erupted inside her boss’s body.

White seemed to overtake the whole elevator. On her bed, Richelle’s body shuddered at her third intense orgasm of the sleep, deepening the wetness across her bed. The third orgasm so intense Richelle was snatched from unconsciousness.

The bedroom was silent, the sun’s light beginning to infiltrate the window’s blinds. Richelle’s room was set into a past dawn haze. She was there, on her bed, tangled up in sheets and awoken from a not so sound sleep.

Richelle stretched her arms over her head, groggy at her mind’s fog. Her eyes were already opened, and she rubbed them firmly. She thought she could remember her aggressive sleep. She opened her eyes wider and sleepily realized that dream wasn’t going to be easy to remember. She felt content, though. She didn’t often feel that in the morning before work.

A persistent warmth remained between her legs, certainly pleasurable and not unwelcome. That dream that she was having trouble recalling – it had to be sexually centered because her pussy’s fluids had left her legs a damp, smooth mess. She felt satisfied, refreshed. Richelle stroked her moist clit with her finger, it had to be some hell of a dream because she had never been so wet, definitely not in the morning.

The bigger issue was that she was in her room.

How’d she get here?

The last thing she remembered was being at the interview, a conversation beginning with Dr. Manning. She was at home now so she noted how bizarre it was she couldn’t remember it, hoping at least it went well. She’ll have to check with Dr. Manning in another correspondence.

Richelle got out of bed, took the sheet to the dirty clothes, and headed to the bathroom to wash up. Afterwards she left her shower, drying off with a fresh towel and identifying some of what appeared to be Stephen’s discarded clothes on the ground. She tided up somewhat, putting them in the closet. It seemed lighter in his clothes.

Come to think of it, where was he? She stopped thinking of it in order to get dressed and head to work. She’ll text him later to check on him.

At the Wellness Center, she casually worked her way through the halls, notably missing many folks she knew in the building. She passed a corner that got near her office, and heard from behind her an unusually pleasant “Good morning, Dr. Jackson.” She turned to look at a smiling Vincent. “Need anything typed?”

“Sorry?” Richelle asked, a little confused at his pleasantness.

“Typed. I work for you, remember?” Vincent turned and grabbed a piece of paper to hand to Richelle. “Oh, by the way I am so sorry to hear about you and Stephen, but he gave me this message for you.”

“Me and Stephen? I..” cut off by Vincent, Richelle heard “And how on earth did you know Jonathan Allen was my favorite player? Love this jersey.” Richelle stared as Vincent was admiring the jersey he was wearing, which she had no recollection of him wearing before.

“What is up with you, Vincent?”

“Oh, Hector said you were nothing but a gracious gift giver. And he was absolutely right.” Vincent reached his hand out for a high five. Richelle hesitantly returned the gesture.

Leaving the area with a bemused smirk on her face, Richelle continued on. Down the hall a bit she reached a more crowded part of the building. Dubois on one part of the hall, Olivia another. Richelle tried to reach past them. Olivia turned after Richelle, “Oh Richelle, Richelle. Nice work on Stet report.”

Richelle was confused again, “The Stet report?”

“Smart of you to include that stuff from Hector Hyde, he’s really so much his own person.”

Dubois had joined Olivia, looking at Richelle. Richelle with wide eyes could only look at both of these women, “Hector..Hyde?”

Dubois insisted, “Yes! Is he in yet? He’s such a…unique man.” Richelle hadn’t before registered such a look on Dubois’s face when she explained a man, it was if she was really into this Hector person.

Richelle struggled to understand who they’re talking about, but it seemed really important to these women. “Uhh no, he’s just a temp. And he’s…working abroad.”

Confusion washed over Dubois’s and Olivia’s faces – “He didn’t…tell me that?” Dubois said.

Richelle pushed forward. “Yeah, an opportunity came up in the Sudan….and so we won’t be seeing him anymore.” Both women remained confused ahead of Richelle. “Excuse me ladies, I have to go to work. Working on these new…supplements.” Richelle quickly walked into an office and out of view.

Behind a darker glass, Richelle retreated to the windows of this office and could be seen beginning to flip out. “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” Richelle wondered throwing her hands through her long hair. “Something I did worked!” and she slapped her hips. Richelle quickly reached to the bottom of her casual, olive-green work blouse and pulled it up to her neck…her bra clad chest bouncing into view.

Both Olivia and Dubois exchanged curious looks through the glass toward a frantic Richelle, eyes glued to her breasts. From outside they could see Richelle look down over the pulled blouse, reaching to the cups of her bra and beginning to squeeze herself. Then inside the bra – to her nipples.

“Something went…” Richelle murmured as she kneaded her chest. Then, blouse tucked into her chin as she looked downwards, she reached her hands to her jeans, fondling her groin as if she expected to find something beyond the flatness of her womanhood behind the panties.

“….incredibly wrong but...” she deeply sighed then brought her hands out of her lap, then down her hips to marvel at the shape of them. “Oh my, my god.”

“What an incredible breakthrough,” as her hands were now at her face, feeling it. Then she was stunned to look through the office door’s glass and the two women were looking at her strangely. She tried to quickly play it off by fanning her blouse as if to cool off. The women looked at each other…then turned to walk down the hall.

As Richelle saw them walk away, she quickly began pondering, hand on her chin. “Ok, why a man?” Sigh…”Why a man?” She grabbed her bag, and sat at her computer. “Uh, the testosterone. The testosterone - I increased the dosage. Maybe…but I have no memory. No memory at all.”

She wondered if this…shift had created like an alter ego. “No, no it can’t be.” She shook her head, then thought of Stephen, opening the message Vincent gave to her.

It read, “Dear Richelle, there seems to be plenty to fill your nights with lately. So, I have decided…” Richelle dejectedly went “What!?”

At her lunch, Richelle was able to get enough time to track Stephen down. Inside a right dapper apartment, she would find Stephen.

“So how much is this thing costing you,” she intonated while looking around. He crossed his arms, “It belongs to a friend, ok? Richelle, just say what you have to say, and I’d like you to leave.” Richelle put her hand through her hair, “Look Stephen, I don’t need room to breathe. I was breathing just find until I got your note.” Stephen widened his eyes, “Oh, well I would have liked to tell you in person Richelle, in fact I stayed up to tell you in person Richelle, but you never came home.” She quickly fibbed “I was working!”

“Oh, that just makes it alright, huh? Damn it, Richelle I thought something happened to you.”

She saw a moment of clarity, “Actually that’s just the thing, something did happen to me. Something incredible! The formula..” Stephen shut her off right there, having had enough of the babble – “No, no I’m not discussing that stuff anymore. This is exactly the reason why I moved out; you’re obsessed with work.”

In came a whistling, too cool but similarly uptight brunette woman. “What the, who is this woman?”

“It’s Laria, a friend from work. This is her place.”

“Yeah,” Laria flatly said. “I made my place open in a time Stephen said he needed.”

Stephen added, “I felt vulnerable and left out, Laria sent a helping hand, as did Hector.”

The name stung through Richelle’s mind. “Hector?”

“Hector, yes, the man is so in charge. Something I want to feel too.” Richelle stumbled, “You met Hector?” Laria jumped in “Hate to break in Stephen, but if we’re to make that lu….” Richelle cut her off, “Would you just give us one second?” Richelle looked at Stephen, “What was he like?”

“Oh, so it’s not just your boyfriends, you don’t notice your assistants either?”

“Stephen,” Richelle whined. Laria left the room. “Listen,” Richelle offered, “ have dinner with me tonight at home.” Stephen began to leave, and was stopped by Richelle “I’ll cook.” He sighed, and she continued while getting closer to a kiss. “Look we can talk about everything. He sighed again, “I’ll call you.” She seized on that, “Call me, text me, whatever just come over.” She was getting quite physically close to him. He smiled, she smiled – and he began to leave the room to follow Laria.

Later that night, at the apartment, Richelle was using her computer to set up a diagnostic on what had happened. Using the notes app on her phone she spoke into it, “I believe it’s possible the result of the drug could somehow have transformed me into...a man. Naturally this came from increasing the dose of testosterone. However, apart from that, and a loss of memory, I don’t find much change other than a slightly improved state of mind. Perhaps there was a more focused nature to my alter ego, Hector Hyde, the apartment is cleaner. He bought my assistant a jersey. Sent an improved report on supplements to my superiors. And he befriended my fiancé.”

All the while, Richelle was making the apartment more suitable for a romantic dinner. Cooking thoroughly and setting candles, lighting them at the table. She was wearing plane flats, and a light pair of jeans that nonetheless hugged the width of her hips. A powder blue, casual buttoned blouse was what she wore – it tapered around her waist to accentuate her womanly torso. Just a hint of cleavage began at the top of its V neck, top buttons undone.

“My challenge now is to find a way to reduce the physical side effects, and ensure…”at that moment the apartment’s doorbell sounded. Richelle looked toward the door, closed the app and set her phone away, closing her computer too. She hurried to the door, straightening a shirt she thought was quite fetching and would draw the eye to her chest without being too blatant. She opened the door, and in walked Stephen, in a coat. They both seemed unsure about each other but exchanged hellos as Stephen walked in. Richelle reached over and kissed Stephen, to which he didn’t return much of it. Stephen looked over the apartment. “Wow!” Richelle quickly offered, “I cleaned up.” “Nice, I hadn’t seen that much of the carpet in months.” Richelle looked at Stephen as he set his wallet near the door, and she offered him a drink. He took off his coat, wearing a nice polo shirt that highlighted his build. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh, that’s stuffed chicken breasts, with ricotta, and…well I couldn’t find much else, so I included a Gatorade sauce.” Richelle explained she ran out of cooking wine and then they both clinked glasses.

Richelle walked off toward the kitchen, Stephen continuing to marvel at the apartment, and Richelle arrived at the oven. She bent down to open it and check on the chicken, when a sudden warm rush seized her hands. Quickly closing the oven, she brought her hands to her face. She looked at the long white of her feminine nails, and then they faded and shrunk into her hands. A rounded, average nail was atop each of her fingers as a tingle radiated out from her hands toward her arms.

She was transforming into Hector again!

Right here in the apartment next to her fiancé Stephen!

Richelle sucked in a breath as she saw dark hair grow out between the knuckles on her hands. The hair lightly spread over the top of her hand, as both of them grew into a masculine size. She brought them close to her chest as she felt Stephen come to her from behind, embracing her and putting his hand through her hair. “You know something…I like your hair like this.”

Richelle tucked her hands down, looking up at Stephen. “What?” she asked, nervous.

He looked at her with a bit of lust on his face, “It’s shorter.” Stephen began to reach around Richelle’s waist, “I just noticed.”

Richelle gave out a shocked “Oh my God,” and quickly left the kitchen. Stephen’s eyes went wide in angst due to her suddenly leaving and the kitchen going very dark suddenly.

In a near shrouded doorway, Stephen went up to Richelle who was by the light switch. “Richelle, what’s going on?” His tone wasn’t happy.

“Nothing,” she murmured, trying to back away.

“Oh, one of your little jokes is it,” Stephen wondered stepping closer and to the light switch. He flicked it on.

His head wasn’t looking directly at Richelle, but as Richelle went down to reach for the light switch to flick it off she said “Stephen, don’t turn it on.” Her hair having receded into a manly high and tight, buzzed short on the sides and neckline.

“Richelle,” Stephen said exasperated and looking toward Richelle’s dark form in the kitchen. They kept fumbling with the light switch. Stephen paused. Richelle exclaimed “It’s more romantic if it’s dark.”

Stephen went to flip the switch again, and Richelle was briefly covered in light – then shrouded in darkness again as Richelle flipped the light off, saying “Stephen you better go, it’s not a good time.”

But he reached again, “Stop it,” and flipped the light on. This time he could clearly see Richelle’s scared face, and her completely short hair, he gasped. She turned the light off again, but he looked through the darkness “Richelle, you’re scaring me.”

He began to back away, and Richelle felt a deep, sustaining cramp in her abdomen causing her continued grunts. Her reproductive system was changing again, and quickly.

Stephen was several feet back now, “Now this might be your idea of a joke, uh a very fun joke?! But uh…”

Richelle slightly doubled over, her manly hands at her stomach.

He turned to grab his goat, “Call me, call me when you have sorted yourself out.” Stephen had now walked back out of the kitchen, into the hallway toward the door on a fast walk. Richelle tried to quickly get after him, reaching the corner threshold leading to the hallway “Stephen, wait...”

Her transformation rushed through her, her knees buckling, and she leaned against the corner while Stephen reached the door. Her jeans got painfully tight in the front; simultaneously her aroused clit surged forward, morphing into a fat cock in seconds while her abdominal cramping released through her groin - her ovary turned testicles rapidly dropped into a large scrotum.

She moaned hard into the wall, eyes shutting in pain – Stephen leaving and shutting the door in a huff, not even hearing this.

Pain enveloped her torso as she felt her blouse pull tight over her broadening waist and chest. Her breasts flattened, momentarily leaving her blouse’s top unflatteringly empty – but her broadening shoulders and deepening chest pulled if flat again.

Her face began to shift, her feeling its femininity draining into a lusty male grimace.

She couldn’t believe it. Who would have thought if another man would come between her and Stephen…it would be her?

[Vended]

Holy shit !

[Subboy123]

This is an amazing story wow

[CelebrityChanger]

The room was dark, its details hidden by the shroud of dusk.

Candles were lit, but they were not enough to provide clarity. Hector groggily gained consciousness; his movement sluggish as he noted lying down on his stomach. He put his hands to his sides, pressed into the wood flooring and pushed himself up.

Hector felt tightness. Everything felt tight, his shirt was constricting and what felt like jeans were harshly constricting. This was especially so in his crotch.

As full consciousness returned, Hector’s eyes cleared. ‘Damn, what’s wrong with these clothes,’ he thought. He was standing, his right shoulder lightly touching the wall, and he looked down to find he was wearing Richelle's blue blouse and jeans.

“Fuck,” he wondered aloud in the room – still looking as her clothes hugged his muscular form. The top buttons of Richelle’s blouse were straining against his broad chest.

For a moment, confusion filled his mind. Hector had thought he faded away. That his personality and body were dying when he transformed back into Richelle, as the drug may have just been a “one off” dose or something. "I'm back," he whispered in a tone of triumph, stretching his arms and reveling in the sensation of being in his own skin again. The top button popped off Richelle’s blouse.

Unease washed over him, from the tight-fitting jeans to the unusual sensation of his feet wearing women’s flats. Het let out a bemused chuckle. Hector began to imagine just how stunned Richelle had to have been as the first transformation began. He pictured her pretty little face, and how bewildered she would have gotten as his large penis grew down her pant leg.

Hector swiftly moved to the bathroom, tossing back his short strands of hair and he looked at the mirror. He studied his reflection, his eyes taking in his masculine features with delight. "Missed me?" he addressed his reflection, a confident smirk present on his face.

The euphoria shortened on more awareness of his surroundings. An aroma of a half-cooked dinner. The candles were romantically lit. There were hints of Richelle's life all around him. It became clear to Hector that Richelle had been preparing for a lovely evening with Stephen. Hector guessed it must have been an attempt to smooth things over after he had suggested Stephen moved out.

Hector’s face straightened with serious thought. While he had all of Richelle's memories up to their first transformation, he noticed he had no love for Stephen. Not even any pangs of attraction to him. No whisp of longing. On one end was a jarring thought on how much Richelle loved him and was attracted to him, and on another end it highlighted just how heterosexual HECTOR was. Hector also felt pride at knowing just how much bigger his penis was than Stephen’s.

Stephen represented everything he wasn't – a connection to a womanly past life that he felt no responsibility for. Stephen was a link to understanding the time he had missed, and there’s a chance to learn about his own origins. From Richelle's memories, he knew how essential that man was to her. But to Hector, Stephen was simply a means to an end. The quicker he could remove Stephen from the equation, the sooner he could ascend to independence.

Determined, Hector began to strip off Richelle's clothes. He took a bit of time unbuttoning the rest of Richelle’s blouse, pulling it off his tight arms. He admired himself in the mirror, trim but muscular. Only a light dotting of hair over his torso. Then he peered back at those unbearable jeans. Sure, his muscular legs tightly packed into them, but it was the indecently large bulge at his lap that was most painful. The seam was splitting his scrotum, his penis pressing down inside the right leg - several inches short of the knee. Richelle’s jeans were definitely not capable of supporting Hector’s bulky package.

He almost ripped the zipper down, unleashing an aggressively confined bulge in Richelle’s blue panties. Distorted, the girthy length extended out the right leg of Richelle’s panties, his balls substantial and enclosed. How the hell did Richelle handle this when it grew? He yanked the whole thing down, and now Hector’s manhood had room to breathe.

Stepping out of these jeans and removing the tight flats, Hector began hunting through the apartment for something more suitable. As he changed, he couldn't help but marvel at the irony of his situation. Born from Richelle's experiment, he was the unintended consequence. He was a "Hyde" to her "Jekyll." And while Richelle might consider him a curse, Hector thought this life a gift. A life he was determined to live fully, even if it meant battling his other half for dominance.

He stopped momentarily, sensing the remnants of Richelle's perfume in the air. A small pang of remorse coursed through him, but it was replaced by his dominant trait: ambition. "Sorry, babe," he whispered, smirking as he imagined how she’d respond to all this, "but it's my turn now."

With that, Hector Hyde prepared to step out into the world, ready to seize whatever opportunities lay ahead. Could they be job opportunities? He thought of how to ascend the ranks…and he thought of Olivia Mintz.

She wasn’t the most attractive woman, and she was older – but Hector nonetheless thought he could manipulate her in to giving him more power. Hector’s sizable member twitched in the anticipation of a private rendezvous…maybe Olivia would appreciate some penetrative thought.

He found tight slacks which would go well with his dress shoes, and boxer briefs which accentuated the print made in the front of his slacks. Then he put on a light green button up shirt, it hugged his torso and chest snugly leaving no almost no imagination room of his build. After freshening up in the bathroom of Richelle and Stephen’s apartment, Hector sent a text message to Olivia with Richelle’s phone.

“Good evening, Olivia. This is Hector, and I am grateful we met up with each other so recently. I am curious, as I know you work late into the evenings, may I meet with you tonight to discuss the report.”

In the office, Olivia was taken aback. After reading this text, she began to feel warm. She wrote back a short, professional response encouraging Hector to come right to the office. And as he messaged Olivia back signifying being on the way, Olivia’s rush took a deeper path through her – and she smiled.

She smiled again 25 minutes later as she welcomed Hector into the office. She noted his height, and his strapping physique beneath his masculine face. Olivia remained at her desk, wearing her average professional’s suit, her coat hung nearby.

“I understand you wanted to discuss the project Richelle was working on, and you assisted,” Olivia matter of factly stated. She had her hands placed behind her head, confidently giving her authority room to breath through the room – but ialso lifting and projecting her breasts forward. A move she hadn’t done for a man in a while.

Hector slowly walked forward, a strut focusing on his crotch -“Since you liked my additions to the report so much, maybe you can get me involved in the development of the drug itself.” Olivia leaned forward, bringing her arms to the table in a calm but stern tone – “Hector, sir, we have a week to go, and Dr. Jackson already has Patricia Walker backing her up.”

Deliberately keeping office poitics as “fair” and nonaggressive as possible, Hector leaned over Olivia’s desk, pronouncing his wide shoulders so close to Olivia. “Patricia is too immature, and everybody knows it. And where the hell is Richelle when you need her? Either at home trying to patch up her personal life, or doing her own research?” Olivia looked up from the desk at that remark. Looking into Hector’s smoldering eyes, Olivia asked “Is that true?”

Hector let out a soft sigh, “I can do this.”

“Mr. Hyde,” Olivia stood up to underline this thought, “you’re an assistant.”

Hector, confident in underlying a gender imbalance, “as are most of the MEN at this company.” Olivia was a miffed at that remark, she looked up and down Hector’s body pretty quickly – being as close as she was to this incredibly manly presence. Hector turned and began to walk away, Olivia looking at his strapping back, smaller hips and his cute butt, then stopped and he turned back to Olivia. By this quick turn, her eyes met straight at the significant bulge down his pant leg. Her eyes flashed wide, and she looked up to Hector’s eyes quickly. He asked, “What if there’s a vacancy?”

Olivia quickly said, “Sorry, there isn’t.” Hector’s dismissal burned through him, he scoffed, then left the seemingly arrogant Olivia standing at her desk.

Down the hall, piqued by the return of the studly Hector, Patricia tried her best to listen. His leaving the office in a huff sent Patricia scurrying down the adjacent hall. She was down the hallway in no time, in her light brown suit and blue shirt, sliding and then falling a bit before quickly catching herself when Hector walked up and passed her. Hector briefly looked down then up Patricia’s body as he passed – she seemed to be looking hard at some documents.

Hector continued toward the labs, and Patricia “noticed” Hector. She quickly uttered out a confident, “Hector, Babe, you’re working late.”

Hector was annoyed by Patricia, saying “Don’t cross me tonight, I’m not in the mood.”

“Richelle’s not with you then,” Patricia quipped, walking alongside.

“One loser at a time is enough, don’t you think?”

Patricia smiled and took the challenge, “What, you think that kind of aggression intimidates me, Hector? Unh huh. See I’ve known men like you. Ambitious. Deadset. Seemingly unapproachable. When I know what you really want is a woman who is brave enough to cut through all that cock…y behavior.” Patricia stood up and got her face close to Hector’s with intent.

Hector turned to the side, then sneered as Patricia used her key card to open the lab doors.

“See I like that,” Patricia said, after Hector’s hand had lightly pushed her to the side. “Bring that on,” and Patricia followed Hector in. Hector added “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more childish than I thought, Patricia, but I’m beginning to change my mind.”

“Heh, you’ve got spirit. I like that in a man. And I know you’re aggressive, even if Richelle doesn’t.” Patricia looked around the lab really quick, as she stood next to the focused Hector. “That’s why I’m willing to let you in on a little project of mine, very hush hush.” Patricia reached into her suit jacket to begin pulling out something. Hector turned around. Patricia leaned over, “Experimental testosterone mimicking supplement. Concentrated solutions that would replicate the product of our most treasured sacks, quite possibly the most powerful aphrodisiac known to man.”

Hector smiled and began to walk away, “You are tragic.”

“Even if you meant that, and I know you don’t, one shot of this will revitalize even the most boring of men for the rest of the night.” Patricia was smirking. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t the two of us have a little sit down, have a drink, and we’ll discuss this. You look like your whistle could get a bit…wet.”

“Fine,” Hector softly agreed.

“Really, you mean that?”

Hector nodded, “Let’s go.”

“I’ll go wash up, you’re gonna stay?” Hector nodded to Patricia’s request. Patricia began to walk away toward the lab showers. Hector then took the vial of Patricia’s compound, dumped it into a blank one for Hector to keep later, and then filled the first one with water.

Patricia came back a minute later, “I’m going to pull the car around.” Hector offered, in a soothing tone, that perhaps Patricia should splash on a little perfume. “Oh,” Patricia smiled, “let the games begin.”

As Patricia wandered off, Hector noticed a pack of cigarettes nearby. He pulled out a cigarette, then lit it and dragged as if he’s been doing so for years.

In that moment of time, Patricia left the building entirely, giving Hector another chance with Olivia. Hector went back to the office, opening it “Mrs. Mintz?”

“Hector, please I can’t go through this again. I’m tired. I want to go home.” She began to collect her bags.

“All I came back for was to apologize. For the way I acted before.” His voice was charming, and Olivia absentmindedly followed a quick once over of this man in her office again, again trying not to creep too much on his bulge.

“Yeah, well,” Olivia said, watching as Hector began to mess with his pants. Olivia’s eyes shot open, and she looked away, trying not to get a hint of what she thought was a lowered belt line. “That’s fine, just forget about it.” Her pussy pulsed anyway.

“You know what it’s like,” Hector softly said, “When you’re young, and ambitious, completely infatuated with the woman you work for.”

“Uh, well I’m sure Dr. Jackson appreciates you.”

Hector stood up; his figure somehow more imposing to Olivia. Hotter. “I’m not speaking about Dr. Jackson,” and Hector let it linger, “Olivia.”

Hector looked down, and picked up a pen. “Do you mind if I call you Olivia?” Hector put the pen near his lap, it was easily dwarfed by Hector’s bulge. He opened the pens cap, then closed it. Opened it again, and closed it. Right in front of Hector’s now harder bulge.

Olivia’s sudden build up of saliva had her gulp – “Of course not.”

Hector slowly walked over to Olivia’s side of the desk, and offered a confident “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Olivia’s mouth went open. “But you hardly even know me.”

“Do you know what I dream about at night? Night, after restless night, sleep getting long, and hard?”

Olivia shook her head no. Hector picked up her name tag in his hands, then looked up at her.

“You.” He flatly said, Olivia’s nipples hardening tight. “Making mad, passionate love…to me.”

Hector pulled his hand up the right pant leg of Olivia, right up to her generously warm crotch. Olivia’s eyes shut taking in this sudden sensuality.

“I wanna be with you,” Hector groaned. Then he leaned to Olivia’s ear, “Tonight.” It was Olivia’s turn to moan.

Hector then stood up, and Olivia caught herself and straightened her thoughts.

“We, we have to go to my place.” Olivia’s breathing was fast, she hadn’t been this turned on in a long time.

“You drive,” Hector said, walking up to Olivia then slowly putting his hand down the front hem of her pants, “I’ll fondle.”

Olivia’s knees grew week, but she collected her coat and bag, whimpering as Hector followed. The elevator ride was calmer for the sake of the camera, but Hector’s well-placed hand still fondled Olivia’s ass. They both hurried through the lobby toward Olivia’s garaged car, Hector taking the passenger seat. The ride to Olivia’s deluxe apartment in the heart of the city thankfully wasn’t long, as Olivia wouldn’t have lasted much longer due to the attention her upper legs were getting in the car. Hector’s lips were grazing her ear from time to time, her pussy gushed into her panties. He had to stop a couple times as she was getting over stimulated and near cumming right there.

Olivia parked at the apartment, and directed Hector where to go. She quickly followed behind him, feeling just how wet her panties had gotten. There was something so primal and fascinating about this man, the more she was around him, the more he came on to her, the hornier she got.

She had been having faint second thoughts all the way until her apartment door, but stepping inside it all vanished. She grabbed a grinning Hector by his hand, and pulled him toward her room. And when they got there, Helen quickly took off her coat, then her business slacks and her dress shirt. She went on the bed, barefoot, simple white panties which were soaked through at the front, and her comfortable white bra.

Hector was in just his slacks, bare chest and abs glistening, and Olivia drank in the sight. She even appreciated his lower torso’s V, it almost pointed down to his groin – something already enticingly big when fully clothed – but she wanted it to spring forth fully free.

He toyed with the button on his slacks…then asked a question. “Olivia, supposing there was a vacancy…supposing you went into the office in the morning and found that somebody had died…*

Olivia mindlessly went “uh huh.” Hector carefully pulled his pants down, down a little, letting just his boxer briefs show through. The obscene way the front of them was filled out mesmerized Olivia. “…quite unexpectedly…” Hector said. Then he moved within two feet of Olivia at the foot of the bed, his statuesque form dominating Olivia’s sight. He began to lean over…”or had a terrible accident.” Hector’s left hand began to lightly trace over the top of Olivia’s chest.

He then got near her face, eyes locked on her, taking his left hand again but this time starting at her knee and slowly rubbing his way up her thigh…”would you…would you promote me then?”

Olivia was swimming in a haze of arousal, from Hector’s hand on her thigh and shoulder, to her already warmed pulsing vagina; she wasn’t thinking straight. But with that question she tried to.

“Well…Hector…” Olivia tries to force out seriously while smiling, and Hector slightly moaning and bringing both hands up to the sides of her face, “Hector I…ohhh,” Hector moved Olivia’s head around in soft circles, getting close to Olivia’s face.

“I can be so much closer to you then.” Hector said it so deeply its like it dripped directly on to Olivia’s drenched pussy.

Olivia’s head buzzed, but she began to stand up on the ground next to the foot of the bed.

“Sweet thing,” Olivia got out almost seriously. But Hector stood in front of her, and he began fumbling with the distended front of his slacks again. She could see it straining to emerge. Olivia hadn’t been this cock hungry before. “Yes..yes..yes..” Olivia began to moan out. Then a quick trip back to gaining her bearings “Hector, sweet thing, you just have to understand that there are procedures.” Olivia looked Hector deep into his eyes. Then Hector cocked his head to the side with a barely audible ‘oh.’ Then he stood up further and began to back away, re buttoning his slacks.

Olivia’s eyes widened and her face turned to a pout. “No…nuh….no…No!” Hector was halfway across the room now, and her hands were in the air almost beckoning him to return. She needed his cock. “I can overrule those procedures.”

Hector was looking down, then looked up into Olivia’s lusty eyes.

“Oh yeah,” Olivia assured. “Gone.”

Hector turned his head again, with a devilish smile now.

“I’d have to keep my own hours.” Seriously suggested by Hector, keeping in mind his propensity to sometimes not be quite himself.

Olivia looked down at Hector’s bulge again…”Rigghht,” she uttered.

Hector began to slowly push forward again, leaning in closer to Olivia, face to face. “And you know what else I’ve always dreamed of….” Hector toyed with Olivia, Olivia almost purring like a cat, Hector holding steady then beginning to pull back a little bit, “hmm? Do you?” Olivia was fiendish now. Eyes drinking in the masculinity of Hector’s face. “A Mercedes…”Hector suggested.

Hector pulled back as Olivia fell forward in obvious frustration, her sex starved mind would have allowed anything. She pushed herself up, and hungrily said “Anything!”

A deep, contented sigh came from Hector’s mouth as he stood ever taller, looking into Olivia’s eyes as he reached for his button, then unbuttoned its hold on his pants. Then he reached for the zipper.

“Everything,” he groaned.

Olivia purred. Hector pulled the zipper down on his slacks. Then he dug his thumbs into his boxer briefs, pulling them down. Out popped Hector’s cock. It actually bounced twice, it was so long, so thick, and anxiously hard. Its perfection dropped Olivia’s mouth, her vision blurred around everything else. That was beneficial to Hector – because he grimaced in feeling a seizing in his groin.

He looked down, his lengthy member quickly falling limp.

Olivia’s vision almost cleared, she shook her head disbelievingly at this turn of events.

“Damn it!,” Hector cried. His shocked hands were outstretched by the sides of his pelvis, knowing that within minutes there’d be nothing left of this great cock but Richelle’s soft pussy. He turned toward the other end of the room and ran. Olivia was increasingly put off by this, her mouth still open.

Pushing through a bathroom door, and turning to quickly close it, Hector could feel his dick pull several inches shorter – the unnerving pulling sensation was picking up.

The door shut, and Olivia asked…”Hector…did I say something wrong?”

Hector grunted, “Richelle, you bitch.” He almost choked out, his back hunched over in pain. He turned his back to the door, a tingle falling across his chest and swellings already beginning to bud on it.

His hair receded into his chest, and from his arms.

The sounds of Olivia quickly running to the door and placing her body next to abounded. “Sweetdick…” Olivia knocked. “What’s going on?!?”

Looking frightened into the mirror, Hector watched his short hair cut began to grow past his ears toward his shoulders. His hands were nearing his face.

There were knocks at the door again, Olivia asking “Let me in?...Please?”

“Uh, just a minute,” Hector chimed in, his voice jumped into a higher register at the end. Hector’s hair reached his shoulders, thickening and and taking on Richelle’s volume.

Olivia dropped down to try to look through the keyhole. “Honey…Ms. Kitty wants to play...”

That sent Hector into pained groans. It sounded like he having the passionate sex Olivia herself was pining for, like he was balls deep in a woman his moans were so sensual…Olivia couldn’t stand it as it drove her more wild.

“Uhhh,” she softly grunted, her hand was now palming her completely soaked panties, she lightly rubbed.

Hector groaned even harder through the door. On the other side his hands were cupping fully grown tits, his chest refined as Richelle’s torso shrunk back into view.

As he continued to moan, Olivia peered through the key, seeing nothing, saying “Hector, hector…don’t start without me. Let me find the spare key.” Richelle’s pussy fully bloomed back into soft sensuality, Hector agonizing over the feel of her warming slit, his penis long gone. The feel of womanhood sparking his rival’s personality back.

Olivia nervously started looking around her room, so horny she couldn’t think straight - she needed to find this key. She saw the nightstand and quickly ran to it, dropping to her knees. There she fumbled with the top drawer, then saw a picture of her husband looking stern. She uttered “Ah!” then quickly slammed it down. “Darling this is something you could never understand,” Olivia said.

Richelle’s vision was incredibly blurry – but she found herself in an unfamiliar setting. She was looking down – at herself but it was taking a second or two to “get herself together.” She put her hands through her long hair, raising her head up slowly. Right into a mirror. In a bathroom.

She looked into her eyes, hands at the sides of her face – and sighed. It was like she had awoken from a long nap.

In the bedroom, Olivia found a pack of mints, and briefly blew into her hand trying to smell he breath. She didn’t notice anything.

Richelle began to look down, and was shocked to see she was completely nude from the waist up. Her hands briefly cupped her breasts, like she had a sneaking feeling that those breasts were completely new – then she looked down further.

She was wearing men’s slacks, they were unbuttoned and unzipped – and there were boxer briefs there which were pulled down slightly.

She quickly moved to the side of the bathroom, then turned her back toward the mirror. Hair spilling around her neck and shoulders, she continued to look down. Her hands alternated, one hand feeling down the length of the slacks down toward her knee – the other feeling the top of the boxer briefs. Her hand slipped inside, disturbingly expecting something down there but luckily not finding anything but the somewhat unfamiliar feel of her pussy.

“Oh my God,” Richelle breathed to herself. Her shocked expression reigned.

Olivia, meanwhile, found the key. Bringing it to her face to confirm it up close, she said “Oh yeah,” silently to herself. Then she got up and started moving to the bathroom door. “Honeydick…” she said, trying to sound sensual.

Richelle’s eyes widened at the sound of her boss’s voice. What the hell? Olivia? Is this her bathroom? What’s the deal with honey dick?

She went forward toward the bathroom door, and peered through the keyhole. She could feel Olivia’s presence somehow getting closer to the door – “Don’t worry, Hector, here comes mommy..” in an almost charming tone which was nonetheless tinged with sexual frustration.

Richelle jumped back and screamed an “Ahhhh!” quickly scooting backwards to the mirror and counter. She bobbled a bit, trying to find either something to cover herself or get out, muttering how she was “such a fuckboy.” She grabbed a nearby chair, and placed it under the doorknob to block entry. “Don’t tell me she kissed me,” Richelle wailed.

Richelle could hear Olivia trying to use the key to get in – “Your troubles are over, lover lips is here” Olivia said on the other side of the door - and Richelle paced back and forth, her boxer briefs and men’s slacks pulling on her, nearly freaking out. “I’m gonna barf,” Richelle said, shaking.

As Olivia looked at the door in confusion about why it wasn’t opening, Richelle turned to find a tube of toothpaste – then she squeezed a bunch of it into her mouth. “Don’t do this to me, why do you keep doing this to me,” Richelle was on the verge of tears.

Richelle saw the door rocking, and heard from Olivia on the other side of the door – “Honeydick, is this a game?”

Richelle, mouth open and full of toothpaste, quickly deepened her voice as much as possible – “Go away!”

Richelle looked around the bathroom, first noting a window which could lead outside, then she found a robe. She guessed it was Olivia’s, but she pulled down and stepped out of Hector’s pants and began to put it on. “Just a minute!” She grumbled in her best Hector impression, slipping on the robe.

Olivia grinned from the other side of the door, pushing still, “Man you are a big boy.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” Richelle said through her mocked man voice.

Richelle opened the window, thankfully it was only a couple stories or so up. She got out onto the ledge, wearing only the robe and Hector’s boxer briefs, then she got on the move and went sideways. She passed a side window of another apartment, and the robe began to get stuck.

She gave tight tugs to the robe to get it dislodged, but all it did was make her lose her balance. She fell from the ledge, thankfully straight down with the ripping robe guiding her, but she was nude save for the boxer briefs. She was now hanging in front of the ground floor window of another apartment.

Suddenly someone appeared at the window, a later middle aged man, who quickly opened the window and looked right at Richelle’s prone body. “Howdy,” Richelle said, hanging on to the robe. The man’s mouth was wide open. Then he looked right at her youthful, firm breasts – and he gave an approving “ohhh.”

“See ya,” Richelle said – and fell to the ground into some bushes.

In Olivia’s apartment, Olivia burst through the door to find the bathroom empty. Save for Hector’s slacks.

Down on the ground Richelle picked up branches to cover her chest, and her rear. ‘Just what I need,’ Richelle thought to herself. ‘An ass full of thorns.’

She ran off down the street, looking to find a quick way home. She bet she’d run into someone she knew.