Add "protein" to her frappuccinos throughout the day.

Though you know so little about this little person, there is one habit this college freshman has kept constant since Day One: chilled coffee drinks, faux-Frappuccinos in everything but name, from the café downstairs. The setup is easy enough: you'll offer to pick-up her chilled coffee from downstairs, asking her to treat you one day.

You find her at the usual: a full-sized desk, standard issue for the office, but with most of it barren. Instead, all that Xenia could possibly need or use was organized in a tight half-sunburst of post-its and pens, all framing the keyboard and mouse brought to the very edge of the table, right up to her bust when she sat in the fixed chair. She is there when you investigate, wearing an unattractive, cream-colored blouse that wrinkles in unflattering ways and, no doubt under the table, her habitually black suit pants and flats.

The unusual positivity with which she faces you, thanks to your pheromones, still takes you off-guard. "Good morning, Derek!" You return her greeting and, with almost no real resistance, she lets you fetch her morning beverage, all for the vague promise of treating you in the future.

~ 10 minutes later ~

Treat indeed, you think as you stroke your pole in the men's stall, the iced morning coffee in your other hand. You know that it'll be down {if Morality > 0}her{else@}that little bitch's{endif} throat in the next hour, and imagining it is bringing you closer. Her lips pursed on the straw, her throat pulsing as she swallows it in gulps, and soon the cup becomes her angry, humiliated face as she sucks you off... and...

... and the deed is done as you impregnate her drink. After stirring in the extra scoop of protein with your finger, you deliver it to the little woman and get to work, patiently waiting for an opportunity.

~ 2 hours later ~

Despite your life-altering experience, you do still need to at least appear to be working while on the clock, and so you do up until you drop a requested stack of files on Xenia's desk, each meant for her boss. The busy day of catch-up almost made you forget how the day even started, or the present target of your manipulation. "Xenia, these are-" Your words cut off as you see the almost comical effect your seed and presence has on the poor dwarf. Her cute little face is flushed, her mouth is open in a perpetual sigh until she realizes you're staring at her, and you can see that her right hand retreats from... somewhere... beneath the desk.

"Y-yes?" She looks at you with something akin to panic, leans her face in a faux-casual pose on the hand that was busy... and flinches away from it, as if only now realizing where she was just stuffing those fingers. {if Morality > 0}Even with your quasi-moral mission, y{else@}Y{endif}ou can't help it: you're hard again just from seeing her so ****, driven into this state by you.

"Everything alright, Xenia?" You struggle to stay calm yourself. Even knowing the effects, you didn't expect it to work so well... then one of your "scientific" theories pops into your mind: if your jizz was a ****, like ****, does that mean her compact body makes her feel it more than normal-sized girls? The question doesn't do anything to lessen your raging hard-on, and her tiny body shivers as you looked her over.

"Yeah, Derek, I'm... I just need more sleep..." She rubs her temples, looking upset. Does she know... that you know?

"I think I know what somebody neeeeeeeeds~," you declare in a sing-song voice. You give her a gentle smile, and she returns it sweetly.

~ 10 minutes later ~

{if@ Morality < 0}"Fucking take it, slut,"{else}"Take it all,"{endif} you hiss. You knock her drink up until it nearly overflows, forcing you to carefully spill out some of the actual coffee before stirring in the man-o-naisse. A guttural rumble inside you warns you that you'll need another lunch break soon, given all the cream you've been adding to her coffee. You're so hungry that you almost contemplate the drink before, with a retching face, you slap the lid back on it. A few moments later, with her none the wiser (and all the hornier), she takes it from you and sips greedily, unknowingly more addicted to its contents than usual.

Satisfied and hungry, you take your lunch before noon as planned, taking it at the same café downstairs... and, with the foresight to realize you'll want to give her another semen-grande, buy and prep her third drink. You wonder if you should give it to her immediately, since that might seem suspicious, or hide it in the fridge-

But you don't even get to sit at your desk to contemplate your options. Standing between you and your chair, here in the filing room instead of at her desk nearly halfway across the office, is the pint-sized secretary herself. Xenia is standing there, looking at your chair... and, you realize, is just taking a breather between rounds of shoving her face into it, snorting in whatever scent your ass leaves. You can see from the lump between her legs that she has a hand inside her panties, desperately rubbing her crotch. You look back towards the door that was around the corner, and between here and there are rows of filing cabinets. No one would be able to surprise or interrupt you two.

You clear your throat, and Ms. Francisco becomes a ball of motion: frantically jerking her soaked hand out from her panties, a terrified glance back at you, a struggle to close her pants back up with slick fingers while facing away from you, and so much jittering in that plump ass of hers. "O-oh, um, hey, I-I wasn't... Derek, you know I can... well...!"

"Xenia, they gave me the wrong flavor," you calmly declare, trying desperately to hide how aroused and amused you are. She continues to not face you, and a soft click tells you she finally worked her pants back to normal. "I mean, maybe I ordered the wrong one, since they gave me yours." You audibly place the cup on your desk, within her peripheral vision. Her body leans towards it, and she stops herself, clearly unsure. Her mind is stuck between masturbation and addiction to her newest ****, even if she couldn't tell while she desperately wipes her hand on her pant leg. "Please do me the favor... and drink up."

She can't stop herself anymore and lunges for your drink. She suckles like a newborn lamb, her cheeks imploding and exploding with the **** of her suction, and the mouthfuls of your cum and cheap coffee, and alternating between those states as she swallows it all down in seven breathless gulps. She exhales obnoxiously, inhales, and... "Oh my God."

"It's fine, Xenia," you offer.

Her hands start working her pants back to open, and she has to throw them onto your chair, like a raging brat, to keep from undressing. "Derek, I think I'm... there's something... ah... AH..."

You lean over her prone little body, barely taller than the chair she's collapsing onto, and place your mouth close to her right ear. You can smell her hair, black and just a bit oily from maybe a day without washing, but also the flowery scent of her body wash. Somewhere, nestled just out of the reach of your nose, is the scent of her sex, soaked from snorting and drinking in all you were offering her. "Just let yourself enjoy it... and give in," you whisper. With fingers traveling up her trembling thigh, you simply press your thumb knuckle into the moist patch of her pants.

"OH MY Ghnnnn!!" Alarmed by her sudden yell, you smother her mouth as she comes, her thighs crushing your helping hand deeper into her crotch and, so, deeper into her orgasm. Her body jerks wildly in your grip, she howls and moans into your hand, drooling and licking like a wild animal, and a wave of moisture too generous to be her cum stains her inner-thighs and warms your hand.

She doesn't just come. She bathes her panties, and your hand, in piss mid-orgasm, making a mess and soiling herself. The odor overwrites all that female grace you smelled a moment ago, and she cries as she humiliates herself, unable to stop the waves of pleasure that make her quiver in your grip. Her sobs, her shame, her near-complete destruction... and you haven't even done the proper deed yet. {if Morality > 0}Disturbing and h{else@}H{endif}ot as that was, however, right now you're more worried that someone probably heard her small outburst.