An office remade

The next morning, I walked into a different office.

The air was thick with the sweet, cloying scent of cheap perfume and arousal. The quiet hum of productivity had been replaced by a chorus of high-pitched giggles, slurping sounds, and the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh. The office was no longer a place of business; it was a playground, a bacchanal, a living testament to my power.

The women were no longer the plain, desperate creatures from the day before. They were now full-blown, proper bimbos, each one a unique variation on the theme of slutty perfection.

Maria, now calling herself "Mimi," was trying to type at her computer, but her long, glittery pink nails kept getting in the way. Her platinum blonde hair was piled high in a messy bun, and she wore a ridiculously tight white crop top that was completely transparent, her massive HH-cup tits on full display, her dark, swollen and erect nipples fully visible through the fabric. Her micro-mini skirt was so short it barely covered her jiggly bubble butt as it showed her wet pussy, and she wore clear platform heels that made her tower over her desk. Every few seconds, she'd stop typing to giggle and squeeze her tits together, her face a mask of ditzy bliss. Her chair was were permanently drenched in a pussy juicess; with the juices forming a puddle under her desk.

Brenda, now "Brandi," was on her knees under a nearby desk, her head bobbing in the lap of one of the male accountants who had been quick to adapt to the new office culture. Her raven hair was streaked with hot pink, and she wore a black latex minidress that was so tight it looked painted on, her massive tits and jiggly ass threatening to burst the seams. Her lips, inflated to ridiculous proportions, were wrapped around the accountant's cock, her eyes rolled back in her head in a state of perpetual ecstasy.

Janice, now "Jinx," was making out with one of the former sales girls, now "Jessi." They were a matching set of platinum blonde bimbos, their bodies nearly identical, their massive tits pressed together as they kissed sloppily, their hands roaming each other's bodies; rubbing their pussies, groping their tits and squeezing their asses. They wore matching schoolgirl outfits—plaid micro-miniskirts, white crop tops tied under their tits, and thigh-high socks. Their faces were caked in slutty makeup, their eyes vacant and glassy as they explored their new bisexual urges.

Everywhere I looked, it was the same. Bimbos in various states of undress, their bodies perfect and their minds empty. They were trying to type with one hand and playing with their sensitive tits with the other. They were gossiping about clothes and cock, their voices a high-pitched, ditzy chorus. They were bending over to pick up "dropped" pencils, their jiggly asses on display, their permanently "O"-shaped lips ready for a cock. They were always willing to jump and fuck every male in sight, with Vicky the HR slut telling them to "like totes follow the rules and stuff". These rules were about them dressing slutty and 'helping' the men in the office. Dildoes were a part of every female worker's office 'equipment'

The office was now my personal harem, a corporate paradise populated by beautiful, mindless, eager bimbos, all existing to serve me and the other men, to please and worship me and the few other men of the office. And as I stood there, surveying my domain, I knew that my work was just beginning.

With the general population now "reformed," my attention turned to the upper floors, to the management team, to the corner office where the company's powerful, beautiful CEO was waiting, completely unaware that she was my final, and most important, masterpiece.