Interlude: Maybelline thinks things through while the rest of her team gets to work

Multiple voices were flying fast and furious in Research, shouts overlapping each other as everyone rushed around and worked frantically at machines.

"That's 42, no, wait, 44 third parties impacted by the app, just by that whole "being compelled to pay attention to those two" thing, the socials are through the roof-"

"Holy shit! We nearly broke the company time record for third party adoption by someone we didn't select to be a trial user-"

"Everything's still in the green, even after turning on statement mode for two people, but keep an eye out for bugs with this much strain-"

May's eyes flickered around excitedly, looking for a screen with the active source code as everyone hustled around her frantically, obviously a bit surprised by the app's runaway success.

"Jesus Christ on a cracker!" Abrams muttered to himself, his tone a shocked mixture of worry and delight, before rubbing the bridge of his nose and turning to his new assistant.

"OK, May, I got an important job for you. You listening?" he said to her, his face deadly serious.

"Yes!" May replied with an excited grin, looking forward to showing him what she could do with her programming expertise-

"I'm gonna need you to run to the cafeteria and get me a large Clover Brewed Sumatra Roast Coffee with one- no, make that TWO shots of espresso in it." Abrams said, his serious expression not wavering as he ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. "And a cherry danish. I know that we don't gotta eat or drink here but it helps me think. Got it?"

"I- yes." she replied with a slightly aggrieved little huff and a wrinkle of her brows. Frustrating as it was, she had agreed to be a regular assistant after all and perhaps if she hurried, she could be back quickly enough to really contribute. She rallied and **** a small smile back onto her face.

"Be right back!"

"Super." Abrams said absently, utterly unconcerned with her mood, waving her away as he moved to the large workstation and began barking out orders to the rest of the team while flicking switches.

May wasn't yet familiar with the layout for Research, but she imagined it had to be similar to Development's where she'd worked for years, with the cafeteria all departments shared likely reached the same way. Since haste had been implied, she began moving out of the Research main development area at a brisk walk . . . not bothering to put her white suit shirt back on or to button up her blazer any further beyond the one button before she left. After all, why should she?

As her nipples and tits rubbed against the blazer, jiggling only slightly but oh so delightfully with each quick step, the physical sensations were pure pleasure, making her breath start to quicken. Also, she realized she was about to be close to topless in a commons area where everyone in the company could see her . . . which made her pussy start to churn with arousal against her sensible black blue slacks. Distantly, she wondered if her new exhibitionism kink was going to get her in any sort of trouble, pursing her lips, but the thought kept vanishing and reappearing with each pleasurable step.

To an outside observer, it might look like May kept wondering if she'd forgotten something - a shirt or a bra perhaps - but then delightedly realizing that she hadn't. Her analytical mind kept raising and then dismissing the question with the same ironclad decision - namely that her breasts were a source of great happiness. After exiting into the hallway and getting onto an elevator - all to a delightful trio of shocked stares that immediately turned into various shades of leering - she forgot about it. Mostly. As a trio of strange men easily looked down at the canyon of cleavage straining her blazer (for once she was delighted to be so short), her brain turned to other avenues to try and run a self-diagnostic of sorts . . . the second such one she'd ever done.

The first had been quite easy, unfortunately. After her initial Really Magic 8-Ball mishaps, she'd had a lot of time to contemplate exactly what the app's definitions of certain words and concepts were - most notably the bra. It was, of course, nearly impossible to believe looking at her now, but she used to be an 32AA-cup with small nipples who could safely go braless if she so wished in many outfits but owned them anyways, mostly to prevent looking mildly scandalous in sheer outfits or when it might rain. She often wondered if the app responded to her mental concept of underwear or if it had a general idea in mind of the purpose thereof when she'd asked for underwear to fit her new assets, then found herself unable to cover her massive new boobs (or wear panties, which was another can of worms) but honestly, the end result was the same.

Bras, in her very scientific mind, were necessary tools to both lift, separate and contain large, jiggling breasts, as well as for modesty. Being "quite the opposite" of needing a bra ended up having both some very obvious pluses and minuses. The pluses were that she didn't need to worry about any sort of sag, sway or excessive jiggling. She did find out through trial and error that they still jiggled slightly and could even bounce upwards with enough **** and effort, just like breasts would in a normal bra. The minuses were of course that they appeared to be the work of an extremely talented but clearly overenthusiastic surgeon, given their unnatural perkiness combined with their massive size, especially on her petite frame. Any casual observer would likely believe she'd had gotten them done deliberately even if they weren't forcibly on display at all times, despite layers - which was minus #2. Being braless wouldn't have been quite so bad if she hadn't also sprouted nipples that were now like a stack of nickels. They had been proportionately large for her now giant bust but the thick, pink plugs had grown even thicker and larger after the failure to obtain underwear, so as to make it abundantly clear to everyone around her that she'd forgone a bra. It looked like it was ice cold or she was aroused no matter the situation and, when she was actually turned on, the effect was comically obscene.

All of which, of course, had led to a very awkward time outside of The Facility.

Employees at her place of business didn't often leave - they never needed to eat, sleep or even go to the bathroom, so time off was almost entirely for psychological reasons - but when they did, what were called Handwave Protocols were in place to prevent anyone outside of work from questioning any changes or extended absences. Previously, she'd had no experience with them beyond her name being changed to Maybelline and it hardly seemed like much of any inconvenience (even her first initial stayed the same, "M" for Maggie). Once she'd given herself a gigantic, nigh-impossible to ignore rack, however, she learned firsthand how said protocols didn't exactly concern themselves with the health and happiness of the user.

She'd always wanted bigger boobs but had never expected the reactions from others. Her best friend Becca just sighed and rolled her eyes at May's complaints ("Pfft, you know you love it, shortstack. It's why you never, ever wear a bra over those giant tits of yours, duh."). The rest of her female friend group followed suit, all making begrudgingly accepting faces ranging from sour to amused as men ignored them for her massive breasts whenever they hung out in public, as if this was perfectly normal behavior for their "slutty" friend. Every journey outside was an exercise in layering and deflecting unwanted attention (usually unsuccessfully), not to mention never being able to wear short skirts again. Having previously been just sort of mousily pretty with only her bright red hair drawing men in, she noticed male friends and acquaintances now acted strangely around her, losing their trains of thought and gawking regularly, some developing obvious and unwelcome crushes. And strangers! Strange women looked at her with undisguised scorn and strange men didn't bother to hid their leers, especially if she added to the effect by wearing anything below the waist that was tight enough to make her lack of panties obvious. She'd finally tried enjoying one of the only benefits offered by having to present herself as a huge breasted exhibitionist - sex and romance, specifically in the form of a few awkward dates and hookups with guys she'd previously considered out of her league - only for them to be overly focused on her new tits (especially when they had sex, which was a little exciting at first but grew old quickly as their sensitivity hadn't ramped up with their size).

Of course, now that they were a source of great happiness, however?

She let out a little murmur of delight, imagining how much differently things would be once she was back in the real world, now that this one little change had been made . . . but then stopped and chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. It was obviously wonderful that her breasts were now essentially orgasm factories instead of useless embarrassments (she instinctively knew that even the most artless groping would get her off like never before, if just the pleasant tingles from fabric against them were any demonstration), but what about her mind?

Her mind had always been her greatest asset. She'd gotten multiple degrees before she'd turned 21 - it was why her employers had snatched her up so quickly. She knew intellectually that she had previously had a great deal of discomfort and dismay about having to display them in such a wanton, obvious fashion whereas now, the same thoughts filled her with delight - even aroused her greatly. Her opinions and desires were now different, therefore her mind had been altered. Could there be greater repercussions to her valued intellect from that simple fix of "May's breasts are a source of great happiness" that she hadn't considered? A lack of shame and embarrassment hardly seemed worth troubling herself over - nothing wrong with being an empowered woman who enjoyed her own sexuality - but could this in any way lead to greater problems? As the elevator ride continued, she found herself shutting down any and all avenues as she tried to create a "minus" column in her mind - each time with an instinctual and echoing decision that "no, my breasts are a source of great happiness" and an almost **** smoothing, hefting or even squeezing motion of her petite hands over her huge tits through the overtaxed blazer, paying careful attention to her oversized nipples if the idea was especially troubling.

What about people never taking her seriously? It was fine, she decided, smoothing her hands down the slopes of her tits. Her breasts were a source of great happiness and her self-esteem shouldn't be determined by others. So what if she wasn't respected immediately? Other people's initial opinions of her shouldn't drag her down and she could earn their respect over time with her magnificent intellect. She didn't know what her bra size was, exactly, but her IQ was even larger.

But what if some disgusting total stranger started groping her in public? It was fine, she decided with a discrete squeeze under the pretense of adjusting her blazer, thumbing her nipples a bit as she did so. Her breasts would be a source of great happiness for both of them in that case. Nothing wrong with bringing more happiness into the world!

What if she could never say no to being completely topless in public? No worries, she decided, as her breasts were a source of great happiness. If anybody objected or seemed unhappy, she'd just cover up at least a little of course, just like she did earlier. It was so not a big deal. Right?

But, she wondered, could she object to any request someone made of her regarding her breasts, so long as it made them happy? May started rubbing her hands up and down her big, perfect boobs, fondling herself through the fabric as she kept contemplating the issue, wondering if there was anything at all she would ever object to when it came to her tits. Not being able to say "No" to showing off her tits sounded incredibly sexy, if she was being honest. God, that one girl had really lucked out with that display she got to put on, she thought dreamily. Her own new breasts weren't quite as big as "Tatiana McGee's" but they were much prettier, more natural seeming, while still being so large and perky they commanded attention. That part had also been so hot, she thought - others literally having to stare at her like that, being the center of attention by **** of the app she had designed. She imagined parading around naked like that herself, but now surrounded by an appreciative audience, instead of a captive one of disgusted women. Just flaunting herself wantonly, pinching her thick nipples that were no longer capable of feeling any pain, only pleasure, putting on a show. God, in a situation like that, May knew she'd just start cumming and cumming and c-

"Uh, is this- is this your stop?" a male voice asked awkwardly, breaking May out of her sudden reverie. She stopped panting and blinked, realizing the doors had been open for some time. Also, at some point, one of her hands had slipped under her blazer to tug at an oversized, swollen nipple. She felt herself now incredibly near to an orgasm and blushed, licking her lips and sweating.

"Mmm, wha-? Oh! Yes, sorry! Thank you!" she said with a breathy giggle before heading out of the elevator.

"Damn." one guy sighed, obviously disappointed.

May decided she couldn't have that. She turned around and unbuttoned her blazer to flash him (and the other two by proxy) before the doors closed.

"Soooo nice meeting you all!" she half-chirped, half-moaned happily as the men's faces all went awestruck and aroused. Their glorious expressions, combined with a quick attempted heft and hard squeeze at the bottom of each tit, were enough to push her over the edge. May came with a loud squeal - harder than she'd ever come before in her life - just as the doors slid closed with a small ding.

She slumped against the nearby wall and slid to the ground as her knees gave out. She moaned in pleasure for a few woozy, delicious moments, before eventually standing up and rebuttoning her overtaxed blazer (with just one button again, naturally). God, that had felt absolutely amazing!

A bit unprofessional, however, she thought with a mischievous giggle. This was the second time in one day she'd introduced herself with her tits instead of her name! She really had to calm down and get a hold of herself before she got fired, she thought with the beginnings of a frown, this job was her life-

Her hands quickly and nimbly slipped into her blazer to give each nipple a quick, hard squeeze. She quickly dismissed her train of thought with a groan of pure pleasure. They'd never fire her for something one of their own apps did to her, especially after she'd created so many money making machines for them! And, most obviously, her breasts were a source of great happiness - why the hell was she even worrying about them or how she felt about them? Silly of her, really. Everything was just fine.

Maybelline slid her hands out of her blazer and continued down the hall to the cafeteria. She did notice with some dismay as she walked that she had soaked through the seat of her sensible navy slacks when she'd came from playing with her tits in front of those appreciative men a few minutes ago. That, she decided with a grimace, was totally embarrassing and unprofessional! It wasn't like she was a slut or anything - her pussy wasn't like her tits, just some free use source of happiness for all. She quickly pivoted towards a utilities closet where she hoped to find something to dry them off before getting Abrams his coffee.

She absolutely wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong impression about her after all.