The end of the work day

Sam was utterly spent by the time Jasmine left his office. By the looks of Amber, she was exhausted as well. As she should be. They weren’t superhuman, after all. The amount of times, the amount of ways the three of them had enjoyed each other’s bodies, they should all be sleeping for a week.

And it wasn’t as if Sam had **** them, or even goaded them on. The women begged, pleaded for his attention. He came in their mouths, on their faces, in their hair, on their tits, up their asses, and in their vaginas. Where had all that sperm come from? Sam was pretty sure that what he had accomplished would have been considered physiologically impossible. Maybe he was, after all, superhuman.

The day came to a close. His new lover and business associate left to go home, promising that she would return at the earliest convenience. Sam sent Amber home, too, after a brief make-out session. Both women left looking like they had been part of an orgy, so disheveled and spoiled. Sam smiled thinking of the awkward conversations they might have on the elevator down to the parking lot, should someone join them on the ride.

It was then that Sam decided to get dressed himself and head home. With a cringe he stepped into his panties. Then he sat on the edge of his desk and carefully pulled up his black stockings. His shirt and tie were a relief to don, as they, at least were normal male clothes. Then came his shorts.

Sam had to decide whether to wear the daisy dukes or his sperm-soaked pants. Before he decided, he picked up the pants to see how bad the stain was. Holding them in front of his eyes, he was shocked. No longer was he holding a pair of black slacks with a sperm stain, but a black pencil skirt with a sperm stain.

Shaking his head, he picked up the denim shorts and stepped into them. He hated wearing women’s clothes, but at least people weren’t treating him like a crossdresser. In fact, the clothes seemed to be the source of his new sexual escapades. He wondered if he should really lean into the changes, see how far he could take it.

No, no matter how much pussy he was offered, Sam would much rather dress like a man. He would head home and investigate the wardrobe further. Maybe he could find a clue to what was happening to him. Maybe he could try to stop it, or at least slow it down.

Maybe…