Job-Bod - Part Five

Patting my pockets I find my keys resting in the bottom of the same jacket pocket as my guest badge, the familiar object looking strange in my new smaller and slender grip. Opening the driver's side door I climber inside, sinking into my seat as I whimper at the numerous aches and pains wracking my freshly reformed body.

I'm forced to adjust the seat and mirrors, the thought of driving while struggling to see or reach anything easily being more concern than giving into the changes that had been made. As I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the piercing gaze of my emerald eyes staring back at me, I let out a sigh.

"Well... this is going to be fun to explain" I say with a chuckle, starting my car as I begin the hopefully short drive home.

 

As I drive the short distance back to my apartment I can't help but pinch and adjust the overly tight and form fitting jeans covering my muscular legs. My stomach sinks with each tug and shift, the crotch digging into a new sensitive mound between my legs and acting as I reminder of what was now missing down there.

"These things would have crush my cock anyhow" I weakly chuckle, fighting back tears as I firmly grip the steering wheel my eyes darting down to the bountiful mounds of sculpted flesh and artificial fat bound in the poorly fitted black cups as they block my view of what lay below.

I whimper pathetically as I take a hand from the wheel, my fingers grazing over the fake muscles as I feel the real deal twitch and pulsate beneath them. My mind turns to what lay beneath it all, my stomach turning as I grow nauseated at the thought of what 'functional organs' they could have implanted into me.

Little did I know that I was at least safe in that regard. While the perfect little slit was connected to something that would appear to be, for all intents and purposes, a functioning reproductive system it was all a ruse. Periods were out the window, as was any chance of pregnancy, the sole purpose of the intricate system of organs being tuned towards something far more creative.

Pheromones, signalling chemicals, and all manner of other traits had been borrowed from the animal kingdom to assist in the latest creations from the Innovation Center, the fruits of that labor now sitting inside me as they slowly sprung to life. While something like this wouldn't be available on the open market for some time, and certainly not without further testing as to the effects it could have on those innocent bystanders that could be caught up in its use, a single missing set from a trade show would likely go unnoticed in light of a buzz its announcement would create.

 

By the time I reach the underground parking of my apartment building I just want to cry, every muscle in my body aching and quivering against my will as the sub-dermal implants rapidly force them to exercise.

Easing myself into the parking space I slump against the steering wheel, my black hair covering my bright piercing green eyes as my chest presses against the horn. The garage fills with an echoing blast of sound from my car, my depressed and pained state leaving me laying against the horn for far longer than I wanted.

By the time I sit back up my head is pounding, my chest slowly warping back to it's soft and perky shape as the artificial Pink Goo within retains the impression of the steering wheel for a few seconds after it is released.

"Stupid fucking anime tits" I wheeze, throwing the car door open with a loud crack as the hinges over extend. I squeak in my husky voice, pulling back at the door as the hinges creak in response to their newly bent state. I slowly clamber from my seat, twisting and stretching as I try to ease the pain in my muscles before closing the squeaking door with a subtlety sighed "Shit..."

I quickly pace to the rear doors, opening it up and snatching out one of the boxes filled with sports drink. I smack my black painted lips and run my tongue along the plumped up kissable pillows as I eye up the extremely necessary sweet electrolytes within. With a subtle grunt I heave the box onto my shoulder, my eyes going wide as I feel the muscles in my shoulder blade flex and display themselves through my ghostly pale skin.

"This is so..." I grumble, stomping my way up towards the stairs as my overly generous hips rock and forceful sway with each and every step.

I groan as I slowly shuffle flight after flight of stairs, up from the subbasement to the lobby and then towards my apartment on the fourth floor. Sweat builds on my pale and 'creatively' tattooed skin, the constant bounce of my plump taut rear and my shelf of a chest causing a damp heat to build in my clingy torn jeans.

'Mommy" squeaks a whispered voice from the top of my current set of stairs, my gaze snapping up to glare at the sight of my goth upstairs neighbor as she freezes at the top of the landing.

She is dressed in the usual uniform for her day job, a crisp white button-up shirt and a set of black dress pants accompanied by a dark green apron. Her pale face slowly builds to a deep crimson flush, her eyes darting between the colored skin acting as my new tattoos and my large soft and squishy chest overflowing from my undersized bra.

"I don't want to talk about it" I snap, my husky voice coming out as a growl in my frustration. The heavily pierced young woman jumps in place, her hands at her sides as the gears in her head falter and fail her. She eyes continue to dart around, seeking some sense of recognition in just who I could be, though with the sheer number of changes it was a largely hopeless endeavor.

I feel her eyes remaining glued to me as I pass, her nostrils flaring as she catches the scent of something coming from my new body. Her knees suddenly shake, her thighs clamping together as a quiet whimpering moan slips from her black glossy lips.

"Gracie!" I bark, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel the muscles within twinge and twitch. "Don't you have work or..." I grumble, the sound of heavy boot falls soon cutting me short as the young woman practically races down the stairs.

I barely manage to drag myself in through my door before dropping the box of sports drink to the ground. My mouth feels dry beyond belief, my body demanding to be refueled with the cheap and sickly sweat salty blue drink.

Kicking the door shut with a loud slam I drop to the ground, splaying my legs out and laying on my back as I pant heavily. Reaching over I tear into the back, ripping strips and chunks of cardboard out before pulling a bottle of free from within. With a loud satisfying click I rip the cap off and bring the bottle to my lips, chugging the whole thing without taking a single breath between start to finish.

"Not enough" I wheeze hoarsely, coughing as I splutter up a little of the drink that went the wrong way. With another frantic and forceful motion I snatch another bottle, tearing the cap off with even greater force as I guzzle the contents down sickeningly quickly. My stomach churns and aches as I overfill it, the hundreds of invisible seams and sutures around my body pulsing with pain as my stomach strains in its newly filled state.

Panting and groaning on the floor, sweat slowly covering my skin and soaking into my clothes, I stare up at the ceiling. My dulled and anguished state is only broken by the sensation of a buzzing in my jacket pocket, a series of messages coming through one after another. Reaching into the pocket with my slender digits I slide my phone out, my eyes struggling to focus on the screen as I quickly bring up the messages.

Unknown Number: Hey Jordan, my name's Harrison. I'm the General Manager of the Mirrored Rose

Unknown Number: Can't begin to say how happy we are to have you on the team

Unknown Number: The crowd can get a bit unruly sometimes, so having a bouncer and bartender combo is perfect for us

Unknown Number: Don't worry, we won't be asking you to dance or anything. However, could you come in early, say early afternoon so you can get a feel for the bar and meet the girls?

Unknown Number: We'll pay for the extra time, and of course you get to keep your own tips. The girls get theirs in a more 'personal' manner from the patrons

Unknown Number: I'll text you the address, and welcome to the club