“Well good morning,” she smiled, seeing the reaction on my face as I took in her appearance. It was
“Well good morning,” she smiled, seeing the reaction on my face as I took in her appearance. It was a sweater dress, a really short, tight sweater dress. Her makeup was done dramatically, dark around the eyes, and her hair cascaded over her shoulder in a long, flowing, raven mane. I could feel myself staring at her but was not able to stop myself. I mean, I’d seen her in party dresses, tank tops, bikinis, but was still for some reason helpless to keep from gaping. And despite my obvious, dumbfounded awe, she looked amused, relaxed, casual. Was she actually accustomed to this? Seeing people - let alone her boss - stunned speechless when they looked at her? She was holding my coffee mug out to me, and had cocked an eyebrow waiting for me to react. “Think you can hold this yourself?” she asked, with a maddening mix of mischief and actual concern.“Oh, uh, yes, haha,” I stammered, remembering myself but still dazzled by the glittering golds and greens in the gemstones of her eyes, glimmering down at me, “o-okay..”She smiled as I took the mug. Her perfume still lingered in a cloud around us, both relaxing me and keeping me alert, focused on her.”th-thanks for the coffee,” I said, able now to raise it to my lips, take a sip myself, acutely aware of how close she was watching me.“And…thanks for reaching your mug?” Melissa asked, both eyebrows up now as she studied my face.”Hah, uh yeah…right,” I replied, “Thanks. Don’t know how it got up there…”“Didn’t you put that there yourself last week?” she countered, confidently questioning me, “I watched you do it. We were in here chatting with Vida about her billing, and her cute new shoes.”“I don’t…I wouldn’t…how could I?” I responded, for sure sounding confused. I was denying it, even to myself, but maybe I did put my mug up on the high shelf? Last Wednesday, was it? How was I able? “I really don’t thINK-”Yikes. What was that crack in my voice? Why did it just shoot higher?“Did your…voice just crack?” Melissa asked, eyes widening in interest, “Like a little boy’s?” She bit her lower lip, watching me, hands now crossed in front of herself as she rocked, slowly, on her feet.“I, uh…yeah, I guess so…” I answered, taking another sip of warm, milky coffee. Must have been something in my throat.Melissa nodded, thinking to herself before speaking. “You’re like a little vulni-chic man, you know that?” she said, almost to herself but with unmistakable eagerness, biting her lip again, regarding me, “All helpless and weak, needing me to do things for you.” As we’d been standing here, Melissa’s voice had changed, subtly, had grown lower, smokier.“V-vulni what?” I asked, less shocked than I should be for how she was speaking to me. Did she just call me ‘helpless and weak’??“‘Vulni-chic’, like vulnerable,” she explained, reaching up to adjust the collar of my sports jacket, “it’s a hashtag these days. For guys that are smaller, beta guys that are, like…”She bit her lip once again, eyes flashing as they shot into mine. My own heart was racing already, and her gaze quickened it further. What was happening? Why was I feeling like this? And - instead of breaking out of this humiliating conversation - why did I answer her with this:“…L-l-like meE?” There it was. My voice cracked again.“Omigod yes…” she groaned, eyes fluttering, “small, beta guys…like you. So hottttt…”‘Hot?!?’ Jesus what was happening? Something was coming over her. And…what was going on with me? My…my cock was swelling in my pants, and then her perfume suddenly assaulted me anew, like a bomb blast, making my knees shake, chest shudder. Oh Christ, I felt all the blood rushing from my body, my brain, down…“H-how tall are you, Dr. J?” Melissa asked, suddenly stepping in to me. We were face to face. Or, rather - face-to-tits.“W-why?” I stuttered, alarmed and awed by how much bigger she was, standing here over me. Honestly. My eyes were just about level with her collarbone, and the shelf of her impressive bosom threatened my chin. Her legs were longer, her hips were wider, her shoulders were stronger. I felt meager and weak, and anxious that we would be seen like this.“I…I want to hear it…” she breathed, obviously without any similar concerns or misgivings herself. If anything, she only inched closer.My mouth went dry, my mind blanking as I reflexively stepped back. “W-well…didn’t we measure me, when we were shopping? I’m…5’8”?”“No way…” she answered, shaking her head, her mane of hair alive on its own, “no way your five-eight…” Her voice trembled in eager exhilaration.I thought to myself, immediately - she’s right. I remembered just then how I had measured myself on rounds at the hospital last week at 5’7”. I had been doing my best since then to put the fact that I had once been 5’11” - way back when - as far out of my mind as possible.“We’re going to measure you again….” Melissa announced, and then as if suddenly remembering something, reached into her dress, down her neckline, into her cleavage. She pulled out a…tape measure?Who keeps a tape measure in their bra??“Wait Melissa don’t-“ I began, but before I knew it I was taken by the shoulders, firmly, and half-guided/half-pushed towards the wall. Roughly, she kicked a tall trashcan aside and stuck me in its place..“Stand straight,” she directed me, having already pulled a pencil, also, from between her tits. One hand on my chest, and standing too, too close, she looked down onto the top of my head as she marked it against the wall, onto the matte grey paint. I took the moment to not only stare at her big, firm tits, but breathe in her perfume. It was like a hit, and I knew if I didn’t watch myself I’d be needing it, a junkie. Her own breath came in quick little pants, and I admired the bulge of her breasts, how they rhythmically swelled over her bra, even through the taut, knit fabric of her dress. But soon, immediately, she’d moved me aside and instructed me: “Hold this.” She put the end of the tape measure in my hand, held it against the mark on the wall.Still without protest I complied, and in the next moment she’d crouched down, giving me a view down her top and-“Oh god you’re five-five??” she groaned from her knees, reading the tape, “You’re so short.”“I, uhhh…” That can’t be right, can it? It must be a mistake!! I thought, but then remembered my shoes, adjusting my desk ch-“When are you going to sign those papers..?!?” Melissa groaned, loudly, suddenly standing up and taking me by the shoulders. She had tossed the tape measure onto a nearby table. I gulped, and looked up at her. She stared hotly into my eyes and searched them, fighting something in herself and watching me, watching me passively waiting for her to-“What are you two up to?” Randi said, entering the breakroom with Amelia, “it’s a little early, don’t you think?” She had caught us - close to being within inches, Melissa’s hands on my shoulders, holding me to her - in an obviously intimate pose. What would she think was happening?!“Missy don’t hurt the poor guy,” the blonde added, checking her nails with a disinterested frown, “we need him to sign our checks…”===================================Another big thanks to Beetlebomb for the image and a shout-out to Horuvex for letting my little world tangent into his. All non-canon for “Nexifem”, of course :) -- source link