In a high class office.

When I black out, I immediate soar into a almost familiar dream. I look to see me entering the office of myself, but I see myself behind the desk, aghast of me looking at him. I do recognize this time, when I was in my office and the boss's secretary came into my office. I can't remember what she said but I do remember what she did. Promiscuous she was, pulling down my pants and fetishly putting on handcuffs.

The weird thing is that I was in the point of view of that very secretary. I saw my hands disappear behind me and I could clearly feel them behind my back, bound by metal cuffs. I could now see myself looking at my real self's penis, embarrassingly erect at the near pleasure of a hot secretary in his office. The next moment the penis is in my mouth, my head bobbing up and down upon it. For a real, unusual reason, this antic turns me on. It turns me on more and more that I do it.

I then faintly hear the sound of a door opening and then my face looks to the door to find the boss standing at the threshhold, his mouth completely open. I see the folders in his hands drop to the floor. The next moment I see my real self pushing me off of his cock and getting up. I see my real self pull his pants up in embarrassment and dash out the door like an Olympic sprinter.

That is when I wake up, in a weird position. I wake up in a high class office facing a desk void of a person sitting behind it. The desk is similar to the walls of the room, high classed and high quality. The next thing I notice isn't the high class furniture or the high class merchandise. The next thing I notice is that I am actually standing instead of laying down waking up. I also notice that my hands are suspended over and behind my head, which is painful, with heavy shackles connected to chains.

Then I notice something that is really out of the ordinary. Long brown hair flows from the top of my head and down the side of my face. I never had long hair before. The hairstyle isn't simply straight and long, but it seems to be naturally straight but curled in large, thick curls. My hair is so voluminous, I can feel its silky, smooth feeling upon my shoulders and against my back. I can assume that is goes down and stops three inches above my waist.

Curious, I look down at my body, and I find that I'm not wearing the clothes I wore when I drove off in my car. I am wearing a women's white sports bra. As I look down, I can see a smooth valley between two round hills. So this is what a cleavage looks like. The fabric holding up these breasts is like a bridge, spanning from one peak to the other. I cannot believe I don't have a manly chest anymore, but a chest of a woman. I'm not really sure of the size but it seems that they measure it at 34C. Curiously, I want to see if I have anything else is missing or if anything has changed, but I hear a door opening elsewhere beyond my line of sight. I could turn my head left and right but it is limited by my arms, suspended by the chains attached to the ceiling. It could have been behind me or anywhere else, but I waste no time in figuring it out. I hear footsteps. Several in fact, and they are entering the room. I am unsure whether the footsteps belong to men or women, or both.

I then notice in the corner of my eye a man much taller than me walk to my right. He has a stern jaw, which looks like it's unable to smile brightly. I see another man walk to my left. He's much smaller than the first. Instead, in contrast with the other, who was tall and slender, his stature is small and stocky, but not fat.

Both men wear black tuxedos with black shades. They look like bodyguards. I am unsure if they're FBI or CIA, or they might be only private hirelings. But, it's perfectly obvious the guy who owns this office is the very person they're trying to protect. Anybody who has a high-classed office with high-quality furniture is bound to targeted for his money. But I wonder where this supposed person is. Hearing more footsteps, I begin to look for the source of the sounds. In no time, I see to my left a man that looks awfully familiar. So familiar, that I immediately recognize his face right off the bat.