Derailing Derek

You lean forward slightly, hand sliding onto Jessie's bare thigh beneath the table where the others can't see. Her skin is warm and smooth under your palm. She doesn't react outwardly, maintaining her attentive pose toward Derek's presentation, but you feel her shift slightly closer to your touch.

"Derek," you interrupt, your voice casual. "Quick question about the indexing strategy. How are you planning to handle the cascading foreign key constraints when you restructure the primary tables? Seems like that could create some referential integrity issues."

Derek pauses mid-gesture, his mouth opening and then closing. His brow furrows—those feminized features making the expression look almost cute rather than thoughtful. "Uh... well, the foreign keys would... they'd need to be..." He trails off, blinking rapidly. His hand comes up to touch his temple. "Sorry, I had it a second ago. The cascading constraints would require... um..."

You watch as his confusion deepens. His lips—noticeably fuller now, almost pouty—press together as he struggles. And then you see it happen.

His hair visibly lengthens, dark strands suddenly touching his shoulders, the color shifting lighter at the ends. His chest swells beneath the dress shirt, the fabric straining as his breasts push from A-cup toward B-cup in the span of seconds. The buttons gap more prominently. His waist narrows, hips flaring wider, making his pants look comically ill-fitting.

"I... sorry, I'm blanking," Derek says, his voice noticeably higher, almost breathy. He seems genuinely distressed by his inability to answer. "It's in my notes somewhere. Can I come back to that?"

"Sure," you say mildly, your thumb stroking small circles on Jessie's inner thigh. She shifts again, parting her legs just slightly under the table.

None of the other team members react to Derek's obvious changes. Sarah is taking notes on her laptop. Robert is nodding along. Amanda sips her coffee.

Derek clicks to the next slide, his movements more fluid now, almost graceful. "So, moving on to the query optimization phase..." His voice wavers slightly, the pitch continuing to climb. When he gestures at the screen, his hands look delicate, wrists slender, fingers long and elegant.

You squeeze Jessie's thigh gently, feeling her warmth, watching Derek struggle with his own presentation material. The clock reads 10:02am. His transformation has just accelerated dramatically, and there are still fifty minutes left in the meeting.

Your hand slides higher up Jessie's smooth thigh, fingers tracing along the warm skin until they reach the edge of where her dress has ridden up. She's not wearing panties—of course she isn't—and when your fingertips brush against her, you find her wet. Soaking wet, in fact. She shifts in her seat, thighs parting wider to grant you better access, her breath catching slightly. Her eyes remain fixed on Derek at the front of the room, watching him struggle through his slides with an expression you can't quite read—something between fascination and arousal.

"Derek," you say, your voice steady as your fingers explore Jessie's slickness, "can you walk us through the migration timeline? Specifically how you plan to handle data integrity during the transition period without downtime?"

Derek's face goes blank. His mouth opens, closes. Those fuller lips part as he tries to formulate an answer. "The migration... it would be... we'd need to..." His hands gesture vaguely at the slide showing a Gantt chart. "Fuck, sorry. I mean—" He looks genuinely flustered now. "I had this all planned out. The data integrity protocols would... they'd be implemented through..."

His voice trails off into uncertainty. You watch the acceleration kick in immediately. His hair lengthens another inch, the dark color washing out to a lighter brown, blonde highlights appearing at the tips. His chest swells noticeably, the dress shirt buttons straining dangerously. One pops open with a soft sound, revealing a white undershirt stretched over what are now clearly C-cup breasts. His waist cinches tighter, his hips flaring wider, the ill-fitting pants now comically baggy at the waist while stretched drum-tight across his expanding ass.

"Sorry," Derek says again, his voice climbing higher, taking on a breathy quality. "Can I... can I look at my notes real quick?" He fumbles with his laptop, and you notice his fingernails have grown longer, more elegant. When he bends over the keyboard, his movements are unconsciously graceful, feminine.

Jessie makes a tiny sound beside you—almost a whimper—as your fingers work between her legs. Her thighs tremble slightly. Under the table, completely hidden from the others, she's grinding subtly against your hand.

Sarah glances up from her laptop, looking at Derek expectantly. Robert adjusts his glasses, waiting. Amanda takes another sip of coffee, unbothered. None of them see anything wrong.

"Take your time," you say casually, sliding two fingers inside Jessie. She stifles a gasp, biting her glossy lower lip.