* Hiring Spree
It took a few minutes for Wendel to shake himself out of the frenzy Gia had worked him into. Of course he had hired her, as much for her self-defense training as for her other talents. In fact, he considered starting her employment right in the interview, letting her follow through on her threat. However, it would be hasty, and Rashja was still at a premium. He massaged his fingers, still store from when she twisted the gun free, and checked his wrist, slightly abraded where the plastic tie had cuffed his hand. Hardly noticable. When he felt composed, he picked the next folder off the stack of applicants.
Immediatly after opening the folder, he pushed the button on his intercom. "Jane, please come in here. Now." She was staging applications far down the hall, so it took a minute for her to arrive. The distance was a precaution he felt would give him some additional privacy for the interviews. Something it turned out was much needed. When she finally entered, she had a silly smirk that telegraphed she knew exactly why she was being called in. He tossed the folder across the desk towards her. "What's the meaning of this?" The application in the folder was one Jane had submitted for herself.
It's not that he hadn't considered having his assistant join the Protectorate. In some ways, it would be quite convenient. She wasn't anywhere near as attractive as the sexy girls who had flowed through the door today. She was merely pretty, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was the Rashja infusion process. Judy was part of Wendel's real-world, the business world, the world where you didn't bed your assistant, at least not as part of her job description. He previously decided he'd offer it to only once they had found another method to deliver the Rashja.
"Mr. Varden. Is it really so surprising? Since I took this job, I've been flown around the world on your private jets, attended dinners with royalty as your attache, and seen things I never knew existed -- all just as you promised. It's been truly amazing." She sat, pausing. "At the same time, I've become desensitized to it all. I've learned to expect the un-expected. I watch you buy and sell multi-million dollar companies like it's a game of chess, and multi-million dollar houses like they are matchbox cars. When you asked for two women matching a very precise, and suggestive, list of specifications, I assumed what anyone would. I think you tried to tell me what was coming, but I didn't believe you. Until I saw them. Transformed.
"At first i was simply shocked. Then all I could think was, why didn't I walk through those doors that day? Why wasn't it me? When you asked me to find more candidates, I realized this was my chance. Is it really so surprising that I'd want what they have? Please Mr. Varden. Interview me. Reject me if you have to, but I want a shot at it. I want.." Wendel held up his hand cutting her off mid-sentence.
"Judy. Please understand, this is a very specific job with a very specific set of requirements, some of which can be quite, demanding." He picked up the file, and flipped a few pages. He looked at the sexual background section, and noted her very 'normal' answers. Several past monogamous partners. No current boyfriend. Her take on sex in the workplace, "a bad personal decision, a bad career move, or both." He shook his head. "Judy. It's not that I don't want you in the Protectorate. I do. It's just, not time." He lamented saying it.
Her head dropped ever so slightly, showing her disappointment. "I was hoping for an interview. Just to be treated like everyone else, but I can see you've made up your mind." Wendel felt a tinge of an uncommon emotion, was it guilt? Judy had been his right hand for years now. She knew every detail, every dirty secret in his life, and she handled them all with decorum. How could he not be straight with her about this?
"Judy, I'm going to be entirely straight with you. I can see you want to be involved, but at what cost? How far are you willing to go? It is not merely a job, it's a lifestyle. The Protectorate requires total commitment of your mind and body." Even trying to be straight he found himself falling short of anything that would sound like court-worthy sexual harassment. Her expression merely peaked up with curiosity. "The transformation, the sernasa we call it, is caused by a substance called the Rashja. The only effective dosing mechanism we have today, the ONLY mechanism that works, is sex." He paused, staring stoicly at her to gague her reaction. Her expression shifted from curiosity to surprise, then shock, as her jaw slowly fell open. He let the seriousness of what he was saying set in for another moment.
"I am dead serious. This is not a ploy. This is the reason for my peculiar recruiting requirements. The women you've seen transformed received the Rashja through intimate contact. Sex. We hope to someday find another transfer mechanism. Right now, this is what we have. Do you want it that badly? If not, you need to turn around and walk right out that door." He didn't expect her retreat to take long.
Even in a world where Jane thought she had seen and heard just about everything, Wendel's world, this was hard to process. As her mind spun over the facts, trying to make sense of it all, her head involuntarily cocked to the side. The whole situation was too shocking to quickly comprehend. First she had seen women somehow transformed into towering goddesses, nine-feet-tall, maybe more. Now she was being told the transformation was triggered by sex? Despite having seen them with her own eyes, the entire situation seemed like an elaborate hoax. She had even started to doubt what she had seen, now on more than one occasion. None of which answered his question. If that's what it took, if she had to have sex to be transformed, would she? She looked back at Wendel and provided the most honest answer she could, spoken in the form of a question, "I don't know?"
Wendel expected her to be gone by now, instead after her response she was sitting, puzzling. Had he under-estimated her? Or was it simply his own view that this situation was so perverted and ridiculous, no reasonable person would accept it. "Well Judy, it sounds like you have some things to think about. There is no need to make a decision right now. As for the interview, it's over. You are welcome to join the Protectorate whenever you choose. Do you have any other questions right now, or should we get back to our interview schedule?"
Judy felt both excited and confused at his offer. She had a zillion questions. How was this possible? How did he find it? What does it feel like? How long does it take? Does it last forever? Each question individually seemed so petty. Then she realized what would get rid of her doubts. "Just one question. Can I see it?" She sat up in her seat, her body language showing her interest. "Can I see it happen before I decide?"
* Game on
Chris opened the door to a uniformed courier standing over a stuffed messenger bag, clipboard in hand. By the time he was done providing an ID and signing for Suzanne's delivery, his testosterone and endorphin fueled state had completely faded. The courier squatted down, and with considerable effort lifted and handed him the heavy package by the strap. There was obviously a lot more than just a laptop in the bag, and Chris struggled to get it onto his shoulder. He tried to ignore the strain and discomfort as he carried it into the bedroom with a lopsided gait that made his effort very visible.
Suzanne was exactly where he had left her, topless, sitting on the edge of the bed. Just one Sernasa had given her a stature and presence that commanded attention, having boosted her naturally sexy five-foot-seven frame by about six inches. Her arms propped to her sides, she could have been a pro-vollyball player -- posing for a pinup calender. She looked like she intended to pick up right where they left off.
Chris might have admired her more if his shoulder wasn't beginning to cringe and buckle. As he struggled towards her with the huge heavy bag, it was obvious to them both the mood had already changed. "What the heck is in here Suz? The law library?" She laughed at him, making him feel even more silly lumbering over to her, shoulder straining. Her state of half-undress was discordant with the situation. It felt like time for her to slip a shirt back on.
"It's the Picken's brief. A big case I'm working on." Suz thought he was cute struggling towards her. In the office, they would have brought the heavy binders to her on a on a cart. Poor Chris. A devious idea dawned on her. If she could now hardly feel the strain of tearing a door off it's hinges, or crushing metal in her bare hand, that heavy messenger bag shouldn't be much strain at all. She casually reached out for it, resisting the urge to brace for as much weight as it appeared to be. "Here, let me take that." She slipped one finger under the strap like it was an empty paper bag, and when she lifted, it almost felt like one. She worked to suppress a satisfied giggle as she watched Chris' expression turn from relief at the heavy weight coming off his shoulder, to surprise at seeing her daintily holding it mid-air on a single finger. She set it slowly swinging. "Maybe I should just get to work," she teased, still topless.
Pausing for effect, she started to notice for the first time how powerful she felt. Chris, the bed, the room, all seemed subtlety smaller. Suz had always been drawn to tall, big, strong men, and Chris was no exception, so the rush of excitement at these turned tables surprised her a little. Still, she liked it, if for no other reason than the novelty. Years of professional sex had dulled the rush of intimacy. This was anything but dull. She could work with this. Subconsciously her mind started calculating and adjusting her tactics as she resumed her seduction. "Or did you want something first?" She suggestively spread her legs wide to leave no confusion about her meaning.
Chris heard fabric tear, and instinctively looked down to see the borrowed boxers give way in a couple places. Looking back up, the thirty-point-two pound messenger bag, a figure he'd seen on the delivery receipt, was swinging on her finger like it weighed only ounces. He knew he shouldn't be surprised. He'd seen what Amazons were capable of at the resort; he'd seen the door practically torn off his closet. Still, something about seeing Suz, who had been his girlfriend for months; who he knew well; display this kind of strength, was thrilling, humbling, and exciting in a whole new way. "Suz. I can't tell you how incredibly sexy you are right now."
"Sweetheart, I'm just getting started." She could see he was enjoying her little display so she gave him another one. She set the bag into a bigger swing, tossing it towards the wall like it weighed nothing at all. Chris watched and cringed, probably because the laptop might not survive the fall. At the moment she didn't really care. She reached for him, and as the crunch of the impact sounded off, she pulled him in by the jeans and wrapped her legs around him. Even these small acts gave her a pleasing taste of her power, trivially flicking the bag across the room with her wrist, effortlessly dragging Chris towards her without feeling his weight or any physical resistance to her intention. She was starting to find the power such a turn-on. That, and his Rashja scent permeating her. Her Libido was way ahead of his, the lack of any prominence against her something she would soon remedy.
Afterall, if there was one thing she was good at, it was reading and manipulating people. At some level she found all of life was acting. It's why she wanted to be a trial lawyer. It's why she was good at playing her part in satisfying men. And at the moment, it's how she was going to push Chris' buttons. She noticed where his attention fell and where it didn't. He had focused more on the way she handled that bag he'd strained with so much, than on the naked and perfect tits he was normally all over. She considered his desires for a moment, plotting, calculating. A part of it was simple submission, a desire for her to take control, something most men enjoyed and some men flat out preferred. However, with Chris it was obviously so much more. It was something he hid from her, something secret, a fetish. He'd gone to great lengths to visit a resort that most would find both impossible and morally abject. A resort that created this power in her. He obviously liked it; he wanted to see it; and she was going to show it to him.
Just as being held this close to her was starting to get to him, Chris felt her legs release. "But first, I really want to apologize for your closet door." He expected to stumble over backwards as she pushed him away at the waist, but her grip on his jeans stopped the motion as quickly as she had started it. A moment later she was dragging him by the pants as she took a couple slow steps towards the damaged door. Chris could now feel her five or six inch height advantage in his bones. Her shoulders higher than his chin, her naked breasts not far below. She gently propped the broken door back into it's proper place as she started up her act. "I don't know what happened. I was just trying to get something that fit me better." Her left hand held the door in place as the other gestured to the now torn boxers. "The thing just pulled off the hinges. And this handle..." She touched the metal, misshapen from earlier. "I still can't believe I did that with my bare hand!"
Suzanne was improvising a show she thought Chris would enjoy, trying her best to play it up without forcing it. She squeezed just the tips of her fingers against the doorknob, seeing more than feeling the metal dent at her touch. She looked at Chris with a carefully fabricated look of surprise. "Did you see that?" She knew he had. His eyes were glued to it as it happened. "Well, it's already ruined right?" As she looked back she was satisfied to notice him briefly glance at her tits. She wrapped her hand more deliberately around the whole doorknob, this time squeezing with more force. The hollow metal bent in her hand before her twisting tore the entire apparatus free in a loud crackle of splintered wood.
Chris had to check that his mouth wasn't hanging open. It wasn't the mere display of strength that was getting to him. He'd seen far more astonishing things at the resort. It was the fact that it was all so real. This was no temporary resort partner; this was his formerly petite 5'7" girlfriend Suzanne, his actual real life girlfriend. That doorknob was in his real life apartment. She extended the shrapnel towards him, the opposite side of the handle unharmed, wood fragments still stuck to the mechanism. He took it and looked over the mangled end. "It didn't stand a chance."
When he looked back up, Suzanne was staring him down with a sultry look, one hand still casually holding the broken door in place. "No. No it didn't." The door fell cockeyed on it's hinges when she let it go, and a moment later her hands held low on his hips with uncomfortable force. "And neither do you, lover boy." He was a couple feet away from her as she just stared into his eyes, holding him there for a few seconds. Something about the force of her grip caused him to instinctively try to move against it. An act which was entirely futile. Then he felt light on his feet, slightly off balance, and grabbed for her. He caught her arms on both sides as his feet left the ground. Her intent was clear as her lips approached, setting onto his firmly. Their tongues intertwined, and he lost himself in the kiss despite the uncomfortable pressure of her hands holding him up by the hips.
Suzanne hadn't planned it. She just saw it in his eyes. Like he wanted it, wanted her to lift him. What's more, the whole thing had been no more difficult for her than tossing the bag aside. She held him there, six inches off the ground, effortlessly, as she continued her kiss, alternately probing and retreating her tongue. When she felt the kiss had lasted long enough, she lifted him higher, his head leaning down to stay in contact as long as he could, until he simply couldn't manage. Hoisted a foot above her, he looked wanting. She did what any good girlfriend would do, she lapped her tongue at the air, teasing him with what he couldn't reach. "Ready to give me more?" It wasn't really a question. Suzanne enjoyed her drawn out theatre, but the Rashja was getting impatient. It started to force her hand.
Chris saw the room move around him as she made for bed. It wasn't like being carried. When someone carried you, their posture and steps yielded to your weight. Suzanne seemed to glide as if holding him was nothing for her. She turned them both, sitting back down right on the edge of the bed while gently setting him eye-to-eye in front of her.
"Will I get bigger?" She pretty much knew the answer. Her question was part of the drama. She saw the gleam in Chris' eyes as he nodded. She could see how much he wanted it. She lay back, making a show of caressing herself, pressing her tits together. "I want to be bigger for you." She felt almost impatient with desire. It was an unfamiliar urgency. She was used to pacing, drawing it out. She was used to being entirely in control.
She didn't know it was the Rashja pushing her, wanting him. She had fought it as best she could. She sat up urgently, grabbing his jeans and tearing them open. Buttons clanked to the floor before she separately made a deliberate tear through the front of each thigh. "Oops," a mock apology. When she let go, the pants slumped to his knees, and she tore his boxers open. As she met his eyes, her fingers felt his cock for the first time since the sernasa. Her hand tingled, some part of her knowing the power it would soon deliver. She tore her own clothing in a non-chalant gesture that was hardly noticed, before guiding him into her.
Chris stood at the edge of the bed, held tightly against and inside her. She held his hips, drawing him in and out of her. She whispered to him, "I need it. I need it now." He let his hands wander, exploring her body. The smooth side of her hip, the curve of her breast. Their tongues interlocked as she continued pumping him into her. He wanted to slow it down, to pace himself, but she was in-control. He could almost sense the Rashja wanting him. He considered commanding her to slow down, but he was already looking forward to what came next.