He is called by Samra's secretary

Peter lingered in the R&D lab a moment longer, surveying his handiwork with a satisfied nod—the ten women now paragons of intellect and allure, their enhanced bodies subtly shifting as they dove deeper into their tasks, the air charged with an undercurrent of heat that made the room feel alive. Elizabeth hovered beside him, her cheeks still tinged pink from the escalating distractions, adjusting her glasses with a nervous flick. "Well, that's R&D wrapped up. I think you've made quite the... impression everywhere today, Peter. Ready to head back?"

Before he could respond, a soft buzz echoed from Elizabeth's pocket—her phone vibrating with an incoming call. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen, her brow furrowing slightly. "It's Taylor—from the executive suite. Hold on." She answered quickly, her voice dropping to a professional murmur. "Yes? ... Oh, right now? Okay, we'll head up." Hanging up, she turned to Peter with a mix of curiosity and mild apprehension. "That was Taylor Lawke, Samara's secretary. She says Samara wants you in the boardroom—called an emergency meeting."

As if on cue, the glass door to the lab swung open, and a woman strode in with purposeful steps, her presence cutting through the humming energy like a cool breeze. She was pretty in a understated way—blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail that highlighted her sharp, angular features, green eyes framed by black-rimmed glasses that gave her an intellectual edge, and a modest white blouse buttoned high, paired with navy slacks that hid any curves beneath a bland, professional silhouette. No makeup beyond a hint of lip balm, her fair skin flawless but unadorned, as if she deliberately toned down her natural attractiveness to blend into the corporate backdrop.

"Peter? Elizabeth?" she said, her voice crisp and efficient, extending a hand with a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm Taylor Lawke, Samara's secretary—and yes, her cousin, before you ask. That's how I got the job; nepotism at its finest, but I earn my keep." She shook Peter's hand firmly, her grip surprisingly strong, then gestured toward the door. "Samara's called the board together. She wants you there—new hire or not, apparently you're the star of the show today."

Peter's mind raced, a flicker of wariness cutting through his triumph. Why the board? What did Samara know—or suspect? "Any idea what this is about?" he asked, keeping his tone casual as they followed Taylor out into the hall.

Taylor shook her head, ponytail swishing with the motion, her bland attire rustling softly. "No clue—Samara doesn't loop me in on everything, even if we're family. Could be a strategy pivot or just her way of introducing fresh blood. Either way, they're waiting."

As they walked, Peter slipped a hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the remote's warm surface. Taylor was sharp, connected—too close to Samara to leave unchanged. He couldn't risk her spotting anything off, or worse, reporting back. No, she needed an adjustment, something to bring her into the fold, ensure her loyalty ran straight to him. His thumb hovered over the dials, already plotting the settings as the elevator doors loomed ahead.

Peter's fingers danced over the remote's dials as they stepped into the elevator, Taylor punching the button for the top floor with efficient grace. Twisting the settings, he envisioned her as the ultimate secretary: a bimbo facade with vacant eyes, giggly speech, and an over-the-top sexy attitude, but beneath it, a powerhouse of competence—eidetic memory for every detail, organizational wizardry that kept empires running smoothly, typing speeds rivalling court reporters, multitasking like a human supercomputer, brewing coffee that could win awards, and, for good measure, unmatched expertise in oral pleasures to keep things... entertaining. Loyalty cranked to max, all directed at him.

As the doors dinged open to the executive suite, Taylor leading the way with her bland attire rustling, Peter aimed discreetly and pressed the button. The shimmering beam lanced out, striking her between the shoulder blades.

Taylor froze mid-stride, a soft gasp escaping her lips as the golden light bloomed through her body like a sunrise. Her neat ponytail loosened, blonde strands lightening to a platinum sheen and cascading in voluminous waves down her back, framing a face that refined itself in seconds—cheekbones lifting, skin smoothing to flawless porcelain, green eyes widening behind her black-rimmed glasses that stayed perched on her nose, lashes thickening dramatically. Lips plumped into a glossy pink pout, perpetually parted as if ready for a breathy whisper or something more intimate.

Her modest white blouse strained next, the fabric shimmering as it turned sheer and sparkly, buttons popping open one by one to reveal an impossible swell—her breasts surging from unassuming to overflowing, massive and gravity-defying, straining the material until it clung like wet silk, nipples perking visibly through the thin top. Waist cinched inward, hips flaring into an exaggerated hourglass, her navy slacks shortening and tightening into a mini-skirt that barely skimmed her thighs, hugging curves that now screamed for attention. The overall look was professional-bimbo chic: glasses giving an intellectual tease, but her body a walking fantasy, every movement giggly and jiggly yet poised.

The mental rewrite hit last, her sharp mind amplifying—memory locking in every fact like a vault, organization turning chaotic schedules into seamless masterpieces, multitasking juggling a dozen tasks without breaking a sweat, coffee-brewing elevated to an art form that could rival barista champions. And beneath the bimbo act, a master of oral seduction, eager to demonstrate at a moment's notice. Her voice shifted too, bubbling into a high-pitched, valley-girl lilt laced with sexy sighs.

Taylor blinked, tossing her platinum waves with a giggly laugh, turning to Peter with wide, adoring eyes. "Like, oh my gawd, Peter! That was totally weird, but now I feel soooo amazing! Teehee!" She clapped her hands, massive breasts bouncing with the motion, then leaned in close, whispering breathily.

"I, like, totally suspect Samara's having you meet the board directors 'cause she's gonna do something super important, and you're, like, the total centre of it all!" She gave him a playful wink, adjusting her glasses with a flirty tilt of her head.

"And, teehee, given how hot and enchanting you are, I bet she's giving you a totally cushy position—and the meeting's just to, like, inform the board about it. Now, let's get you there—I'll make sure it's all perfect!" She multitasked effortlessly, pulling out her phone to text a quick confirmation, her bimbo persona hiding the razor-sharp efficiency that now made her indispensable.

As they stepped out of the elevator into the executive suite's polished lobby, the remote felt like a reassuring weight in Peter's pocket. Taylor's transformation had settled in seamlessly, her bimbo giggles echoing softly as she led the way, massive breasts bouncing with each step. "Like, wait—should I be worried about this meeting?" he asked, voice low, a flicker of unease creeping in despite the day's triumphs. "What's Samara planning?"

With a bubbly twirl, Taylor spun around, platinum waves swishing as she placed a manicured hand on his arm, leaning in close enough for her glossy pink lips to brush his ear. "Oh, like, totally not, Peter! Teehee, both Samara and another member are already, like, super okay with it—so the third will just have to deal, ya know?" She giggled, adjusting her glasses with a flirty wink. "But, um, the third one's a cranky bitch, so you might have to deal with her being all nasty and stuff. Like, whatever—it's something that can be dealt with easily enough, right? I'll handle the deets!"

Confusion knitted Peter's brows as he processed her words, the elevator's ding fading behind them. "Wait, who's the other member? The one who agrees with Samara?"

Pausing at the boardroom door, Taylor tilted her head, her wide eyes sparkling with adoration, massive chest heaving with a breathy sigh. "Oh, like, you already met her, sweetie, and teehee, you made such a great impression!" She giggled, her gaze dropping pointedly to Peter's crotch with a flirty wink, glossy pink lips parting in a needy little gasp. "Now, let's get in there; I'll make sure everything's perfect for you!" She pushed the door open, her bimbo facade masking the razor-sharp mind already plotting to smooth any bumps ahead.

As they entered the sleek boardroom—polished mahogany table gleaming under recessed lights, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline—Peter's unease lingered, the remote a silent ally in his pocket. Samara sat at the head, flanked by two other women: one a stern, silver-haired executive with a no-nonsense scowl, and the other... Mia, a towering vision in a pink suit that strained over her massive breasts, long blonde waves framing an intrigued expression behind black-rimmed glasses, her clipboard perched on her lap as she nodded subtly at Peter's entrance. Taylor bustled in behind them, multitasking with effortless grace—texting updates while pouring coffee that smelled like heaven, her massive breasts jiggling as she leaned over to serve Peter first, whispering breathily, "Like, extra hot for you, handsome."

Samara rose with a polished smile, gesturing for Peter to sit. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We've been watching your... impact today. The board has a proposal for you." The cranky third member huffed, arms crossed, but Mia nodded subtly, her eyes flicking to Peter with quiet approval. Peter's hand twitched toward the remote, sensing the power shift in the room—whatever was coming, he could handle it, but first, he'd ensure this "cranky bitch" fell in line.