The insatiable she-slut

Bill stared at the blinking cursor, his mind racing. The deadline for his report was in an hour, and he hadn't even started. The office was quiet, except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. His boss, Mr. Jenkins, had left a stern note on his desk: "Finish this by end of day, or there'll be consequences." Bill gritted his teeth, trying to push the stress away.

He sighed a he got up from his desk and went to the elevator. He had to do some banking.

Bill felt his body start to tingle as the stress mounted. The elevator doors slid shut, trapping him in the small metal box. It was a familiar feeling, one that sent a shiver of dread down his spine. His skin grew tight and his body began to shrink as his muscles melted away. He looked down to see his clothes start to hang loosely, his hands becoming smaller and more delicate. The buttons on the elevator panel looked further away, and his vision swam with the realization that the transformation was beginning again. He desperately wished he could stop it, but the genetic quirk that made him She-Slut had a mind of its own.

As the elevator descended, Bill's body continued to morph. His face softened, his cheekbones becoming more pronounced and his nose smaller. His hair grew out, cascading down his back in luscious waves. His hips widened and his chest swelled with feminine curves. His shoes pinched as his feet shrank, and his briefs grew tighter around his growing ass. He knew there was no way to hide it now; his co-workers would know what happened.

Then his intellect started to dwindle and she giggled as the slut part of her mutation kicked in.

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Bill was gone, and in his place was She-Slut, a vision of beauty with a vacant stare. She stepped out into the lobby, shoes in hand, clutching over large pants and swimming in her too large suit top. The security guard, Mr. Thompson, looked up from his desk, his eyes widening in surprise. She-Slut giggled again, feeling a sudden urge to be naughty. She knew what she had to do to change back, but she couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of powerlessness that came with her alter ego.

“Billie, storage closet?”

Mr. Thompson’s voice was a gruff whisper, filled with a hint of concern. She-Slut nodded eagerly, her cheeks flushing as she sashayed past him, her hips swaying with each step. The security guard’s gaze lingered on her exposed legs before he snapped out of his trance and hurriedly opened the door to the nearest storage closet. She-Slut slipped inside, the coolness of the room offering a brief respite from the glares of the other employees. She looked around the cramped space, her heart pounding. The smell of dust and cleaning supplies mingled with the faint scent of her own arousal as she knelt expectantly.

Mr. Thompson stepped in and closed the door, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of the transformed She-Slut. His hand trembled as he reached for the bulge in his pants. She-Slut’s own desires grew stronger, the need to consume jism to return to her male form becoming almost painful. She leaned in, her tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of his skin as he unzipped and revealed his hardening cock. The closet was small, their bodies close, and the air grew thick with the scent of lust.

Mr. Thompson’s hand guided She-Slut’s mouth closer, and she eagerly took his length into her mouth, her eyes glazed over with a mix of fear and arousal. The feel of him pulsing against her tongue was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure through her transformed body. She sucked and licked, her cheeks hollowing with each movement, as Mr. Thompson’s breath grew ragged. She knew she had to be quick; the longer she stayed in this state, the more of her humanity slipped away.

With a grunt, Mr. Thompson reached his climax, and She-Slut felt the hot spurt of his jism fill her mouth. She swallowed greedily, the salty taste of his release flooding her with relief. The transformation began to reverse almost immediately. Her eyes cleared, and she felt her intellect slowly return. She took a deep breath, her body shrinking back to its male form, the clothes falling into place once again. Bill looked up at Mr. Thompson, his cheeks still flushed, and whispered a hasty “Thank you,” before bolting out of the closet, the taste of his own salvation lingering.

The security guard stumbled back, zipping up his pants, his mind reeling from what had just occurred. Bill didn’t bother to look back, his focus solely on getting to the bank before it closed. The adrenaline of the situation had given him a burst of energy, and he sprinted through the lobby, not even bothering to put his shoes on. The chilly air of the city hit his bare feet as he burst through the doors, the cold concrete a stark contrast to the warmth of the building.