TITLE    : Rising Through the Ranks Pt. 01
STORYID  : rising-through-the-ranks-pt-01
SUMMARY  : Well endowed futa puts her "special qualification" to use.
AUTHOR   : michellemalkin@lit
DATE     : 2020-04-06
CATEGORY : transgender-crossdressers
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |alpha|big cock|big dick|bimbo|dickgirl|femdom|futa|futanari|huge cock|massive cock|


As I stepped out of the subway station looking for any sign of the building, I made eye contact with a lanky young man standing on the corner with a group of friends. He was a handsome specimen, not much older than eighteen but obviously well-muscled and lean. He grabbed at the crotch of his sweatpants, leveling at me what appeared to be a particularly meaty package. To most women, it would have been quite an impressive display. I'm not most women.



"Hey bitch!" —he shook the heavy bulge in his sweats in my direction— "You've got nice legs, what time do they open?"



"Past your bedtime junior," I shot back. I know—not exactly the wittiest repartee, but catcalling guys are generally all the same. Say something back, anything at all, and their balls tend to shrivel. Proving my point, his face flushed immediately as his friends roared with laughter. I was on my way.



As I drew closer to my destination, just about every man who passed me by openly stared, not even bothering to politely conceal their obvious lust. Ordinarily, this excess of undesired attention might inspire a feminist rant from me, but today I could hardly blame the men (and a higher number of women than you, dear reader, would ever imagine) who slowed or even stopped to stare as I strode by. I cut quite an impressive figure, standing easily above six feet in my heels. My tight grey pencil skirt accentuated every curve of my luscious hips, which bounced and swayed enticingly as I walked. My dirty blonde hair was pulled back and pinned into a professional bun, a few hanging strands framing the angular features of my face --features that belied my raw sexuality. Of course, the main attraction was my massive rack. Two massive breasts (KK cups, to be exact) heaved under my white blouse, struggling against the specially designed, custom-made bra set with the near-impossible task of keeping them from bouncing free as I walked.



I looked down at the business card in my hand:



Richard C. Halston



Vice President: Private Client &amp; Wealth Management



Consolidated Loan and Trust of America



356 Sixth Avenue



45th Floor



It didn't take me too much longer to find the building, a massive and imposing art-deco building that oozed class. I stepped inside the large atrium and was met with a blast of cold air—a welcome respite from the boiling summer heat outside. The atrium was beautiful, full of dark wood paneling and tasteful dim lighting. Dark leather couches and low end tables lined the walls, but the room was deserted save for a receptionist at the other end of the long hall. I paced towards the receptionist's high desk, my heels clicking and echoing off the smooth marble floor with every step. It felt good to break the silence. As I drew closer to the receptionist, I was momentarily taken aback. She was stunning. She had model good looks: high, pinched cheekbones, bright almond eyes, dark black hair that cascaded down past her shoulders, and lips that HAD to have seen their fair share of filler. As I stepped up to the desk, I glanced down and got an eyeful—and then some—of cleavage. Her tits—clearly enhanced—were nearly as big as mine, and almost threatened to burst out of the sharp jacket she was wearing.



I could feel myself getting a little hot—and not just because of the summer heat.



"I'm here for an interview with Mr. Halston," I stated matter of factly.



The receptionist looked me up and down, pausing for a moment on my prodigious breasts, no doubt comparing them to her own enhanced set. Of course, I came out on top. Spoiler alert, I always do. She glanced down at her computer screen and, seeming satisfied with my credentials, gestured wordlessly to the bank of elevators behind her.



After zooming up for what felt like ten minutes, I stepped off the elevator, and down the hall towards Mr. Halston's office. Standing just before the large oak door, I noted the empty secretary's desk, imagining how I would spruce it up once I had secured the job. A small gold nameplate at the corner of the desk declared that this desk belonged to "STEPHANIE CARROWAY." I rearranged the letters in my head—adding and subtracting as necessary—to spell my own name and, feeling quite satisfied with the mental picture, knocked on the heavy door.



"Come in."



His voice was loud and commanding, resonating with the sort of deep timbre that weakens men and makes pussies wet.



I struggled past the heavy door and entered. Like the atrium, the office was well appointed and elegant. The walls were the same dark wood panelling, though the floor was covered in a handsome oriental carpet. Large windows let in the afternoon summer sun and promised an incredible view of the city below. The main feature of the room was a massive executive desk—or rather, the man behind it. Mr. Halston cut an impressive figure. Even through his steel-grey suit jacket, powerful muscles seemed to ripple. He looked like he had been carved from solid marble—and carved by some sort of muscle fetishist. Between his rigid shoulders, his thick, bulging neck, his chiseled features, it was impossible to say what stuck out to me first.



The muffled gurgling sound emitting from somewhere underneath the monstrous desk suggested that something other than the contracts on Mr. Halston's desk was responsible for his closed eyes and the occasional grunt that issued from his mouth.



The sound of my entrance seemed to snap him out of his reverie. He leaned forward and his eyelids shot open, revealing a pair of piercing blue eyes that immediately locked mine in a deep stare. A shudder ran through me, starting somewhere deep in my pussy and shooting outwards towards the tips of my fingers and the end of each tiny hair on the back of my neck. With great effort, I broke the stare. I turned to close the door behind me, and when I looked back at Mr. Halston, he was scanning me up and down. I stuck my chest out a little—what can I say? I'm a bit of a showoff. As his eyes paused to stare shamelessly at my massive tits, a smirk grew on his face. He smiled the hungry, predatory smile of a man all too aware of his affect on women.



"I would have Stephanie bring you a chair, but she's a little bit... busy at the moment." He gestured downwards toward the desk.



"Come a little closer"



Again, that commanding tone didn't give me much of a choice. I slid forward until I was within arm's reach of the desk, clutching the file folder with my documents in both hands and feeling just a bit dwarfed by the massive man behind it. The desk was so large that, even up close, I could see little of what was going on behind it save for Mr. Halston's well muscled torso.



"I bought a copy of my resume as well as a few letters of recommendation."



"Hmm."



I passed the documents to him, shocked at how at even the slightest movement of his brawny arms to collect my papers, his biceps seemed to threaten the fabric of his suit. It obviously had been cut that way on purpose, and would have seemed a bit ridiculous if it weren't just so damn imposing. He slid my stack of papers to the side of his desk, barely even glancing at them. Interlacing his fingers, he looked straight into my eyes. It was all I could do not to look away.



"As you can see, I graduated magna cum laude from . . ."



As I continued to list my (quite impressive) credentials, Mr. Halston seemed not to be listening at all. I was halfway through describing my MBA when he stopped me with a wave of his hand.



"I don't care about any of that." I bristled at his rudeness.



"Mr Halston., I'm not sure exactly why you brought me in for this interview if you're not interesting in hearing—"



Again he cut me off with a wave of his massive palm.



"Mrs. . . Camden, is it? Let me show you some of the duties that you'll be performing as my assistant."



I had heard this line—or something like it—at least a hundred times, and it was typically where most of my job interviews had tended to go awry. For some reason, men just don't seem to be able to control themselves around me. Most seem to take my massive tits as some sort of sluttiness talisman—an invitation to grope, proposition, and otherwise bother me. I had high hopes for this interview, but it seemed that Mr. Halston was just like the rest. If I had a nickel for each time some pathetic man had whipped out his four incher, expecting me to get down on my knees for a chance—a CHANCE—at a job, why I could leave the job market entirely, retire early, and buy myself a nice little beach house too. I fought every impulse to roll my eyes.



Mr. Halston pushed a hidden button somewhere on the massive desk, and the front panel between the sections slid away with a loud click, revealing a tight-skirted ass bouncing back and forth and confirming my earlier suspicions.



"Stephanie, come up here for a minute and meet your replacement."



I will hand it to Mr. Halston, he's the first would-be employer to proposition me WHILE another woman was blowing him. It couldn't possibly have felt good for the poor girl. A muffled cry of protest issued from beneath the desk, but after a few hard raps on the surface of the desk by Mr. Halston, the ass receded from my view, and a shock of blonde hair emerged near his lap. With her back turned towards me, the poor woman still seemed to be sucking as she rose to her feet, bending over at the waist and throating him with impossibly long strokes.



"That's enough Steph," he growled. "I know this is probably your last day with me, but don't get greedy."



With a horrible sucking sound, she seemed to disengage herself from his cock, straightening from the waist in one fluid motion, still obscuring much of his body. I'll admit, some part of me (my cock-hungry cunt, to be exact) was VERYexcited for her to move aside and reveal Mr. Halston's appendage. With a quick step, she swung her right leg over his left and stepped beside him.



He certainly had a lot to be cocky about. His penis was a rock-hard pillar of meat that extended at least a foot above the edge of the desk. Even if his hips sat just below that shiny oak surface (and I could tell they didn't), this was still probably the largest cock I had ever seen. Well, the second largest, at least. Even from where I stood, I could see thick veins running up the length of his fat fucking tool. Still sloberry and slick from Stephanie's ministrations, the fat, apple-sized head gleamed like it had been polished. Droplets of saliva mingled with the precum oozing out of his fat slit and slowly crept their way down the finger-thick veins that pulsed with virile strength. It was all I could do to stop from drooling. As I took it all in as my pussy, already damp, kicked things into overdrive—preparing to "take it all in" in a different way.



It took every ounce of self control I had to pry my eyes away from his monster. Exercising that last sliver of discipline, I managed to tear my gaze away from his cock. I scanned slowly up his body and past the self-satisfied look on his face to the glowering grimace of the woman I had now identified as the "STEPHANIE CARROWAY" to whom the desk in the hall belonged.



She was certainly older than I, well into her forties at my best guess. That being said, she wore her middle-age well, and only experienced eyes such as mine would be able to get close to determining her real age. Her youthful appearance was helped in part by what must have been three dozen cosmetic surgeries at least. Her tits, great globes of silicone that came close to rivaling my own natural set, had clearly been augmented several times. Her blouse was completely unbuttoned, revealing the evidence of a very well concealed tummy tuck and exposing her titanic tits. Her hair was platinum blonde and straight, while her facial features had been nipped, tucked, ground down, shaved, and otherwise manipulated to give an impression of lusty beauty. Just like the tits that hung heavily on her chest, her surgically perfected features were symbols of a body converted almost totally for pleasure.



Her lips, inflated to a nearly-comical pout (though they were now twisted into a scowl), were somehow fuller than mine, meaning they had obviously also been the target of several procedures. She looked like the canvas of a skilled plastic surgeon charged with creating a creature built for sex, and her tousled post-blowjob hair and precum-stained lips, gave the impression of a washed up porn star more than an executive assistant.



"Go on slut," she sneered "I'm sure whatever you've got stuffed in your bra is no comparison for these." She grabbed her exposed tits and shook them at me, clearly playing up their size and hoping it would be enough to intimidate me --of course, it wasn't.



At the same time, Halston smirked, obviously cognizant of how this entire situation—his massive meat tower, Stephanie's impressive body, and the sheer absurdity of it all—was affecting me.



I slowly stood up to my full height, towering over Stephanie (and perhaps Mr. Halston too, had he been standing). I reached for the top button of my blouse, unbuttoning it slowly. The room was silent. Both Stephanie and Mr. Halston were transfixed. I had them. I grabbed each side of my blouse at the placket and tore it open, scattering the floor with buttons before slipping my hands to my pencil skirt and sliding it off my hips in one smooth motion. Their jaws fell to the floor.



~~~



I was fucking pissed. I had been with Mr. Halson for five years and Consolidated Loan and Trust for another sixteen, ever since I had been plucked from a college job fair and plied with offers of high pay and 'unique' benefits. I started in the mail room for god's sake, jerking off the mail boys during their breaks. Working down there meant an endless parade of cock, and I was happy to satisfy anyone who was able to satisfy me. Fortunately, Consolidated's Human Resources department seemed to have a special knack for recruiting men with fat, heavy pricks. Once I developed a bit of reputation for my *ahem* "work ethic," even a few of the young executives would find excuses to drop by.



My first tit-job (EE cup) got me bumped up to servicing a junior vice president, a young hotshot with an even hotter dick. He was actually a sweet young guy. He had been hired right out of business school, but was quite a bit more humble than those business school types typically were. I was lucky enough to get to him early, before the constant compliments about his absolutely massive prick got to his head. He was an inexperienced fuck when I first had him, but what he lacked in experience, he made up for in size.



Shortly after my second enhancement, enlarging my already impressive set to a full JJ cup, Mr. Halston noticed me getting coffee for that young JVP. One quick memo later, I was packing all of my things into a cardboard box and moving up to the 45th floor. Of course the JVP complained, but he was quickly reminded of his place. He could either keep his job and lose me, or be fired and lose me anyway. The decision must have been pretty easy. The decision was easy for me too, not that my opinion had been considered. Mr. Halston had actually joined the company around the same time I started in the mail room. Though he was on the executive track and thus my only interactions with him had been limited to sorting mail with his name on it, the rumors made it all the way down to the mail room.



My latest enhancement bordered on the absurd. I had been "working under" Mr. Halston for about a year and a half when he asked if I would be interested in another enlargement. Of course, he didn't give me much of a choice. He made it fairly clear that if I wanted to keep working for him, I would have to do something drastic to make up for my age.



Anyway, I had been with the company for a long time. I sucked and fucked my way from the very bottom to just about the very top, and I was not about to let this prim and proper bitch—who obviously thought she was too good to get on her knees and pay her dues—come in here and take away everything I had worked so hard for.



As the strange woman unbuttoned her blouse, time slowed to a crawl. In one deft movement, she ripped her blouse open and undid the front clasp on her bra. Before my eyes even had a chance to process what they seemed to be seeing, she had dropped her hands to her waist and slid her pencil skirt off of her flared hips. As her skirt dropped to the floor, so did my jaw.



By the time this blur of motion had subsided, it was all I could do to put the pieces together. Standing before us both was a perfect icon of femininity. My eyes hungrily devoured her body, starting from her newly exposed collarbone and gliding down between her breasts, which drew my gaze like an electromagnet. They dwarfed my enhanced set, something no set of natural tits had ever been able to accomplish. Her titanic tits sat proudly on her chest, still perky despite their truly awesome size. Her eraser-nub nipples, hard from the cool air, protruded from areolae as big as saucers.



Her taut tummy was a sight to behold—she was trim but not overly muscular, though power certainly lurked behind her perfect skin. Strangely, there was no sign of the slight potbelly that had filled out her blouse before. As my eyes continued their slow, languorous process down her body, my confusion mounted. Her alabaster skin—pulled taut and exposing keenly honed abdominal muscles—appeared as though it were being tugged downwards by a heavy weight. A moment later, I understood. Dangling between her legs was the biggest cock I had ever seen. I blinked once, twice, three times trying to clear my eyes as I slowly began to take in the sight before me. What I had first written off as a slight paunch must have been her massive fuckstick, somehow concealed beneath her blouse. God knows how.



Fully soft, the root of the thing was clearly wider than the coffee mug that Mr. Halston had just spilled across the desk. Thick veins, some girthier than my pinky finger, ran down her shaft, feeding the monster. It hung there, swaying side to side with the momentum only a weight piece of meat has. As my eyes travelled down her tapered shaft, my mouth began to water. By the time my gaze had reached her absurdly fat cockhead—which hung well below her knees—I was drooling.



She began to stroke from base to tip with both hands, fingers not even coming close to wrapping all the way around her prodigious girth. I could almost hear blood rushing into her prick, thickening and swelling it grotesquely as it turned an angry pinkish red. She kept fisting her rod, using the precum that was now steadily flowing out of her piss-slit to lubricate herself. Her cock twitched as it stiffened, finally reaching what had to be its full size. I was proven wrong, however. Her forearm-sized slab of raw sex just kept getting bigger until I was sure it would burst. It twitched hungrily and angrily as she stroked it more slowly now, like a beast waiting to be let off its leash. I felt a gut wrenching twinge of arousal, awe, and a little bit of fear. I didn't want this thing anywhere near me—but at the same time, I needed it inside me. In my mouth, in my cunt, anywhere it would fit.



Even though she stood at least a foot, maybe two, back from the executive desk, her titanic rod rested on the desk's wooden edge. The expression on her face was one of pure malice as she hefted her massive prick in both hands. She lifted it to her chest then, in one deft motion, smashed it down with a frightening wet SMACK against the coffee cup I had been mentally comparing her thickness to—as if to prove the dominance of her almighty girth. The ceramic cup was no match for her monster. I flinched as little shards rained down across the room, forcing me to cover my eyes for a moment.



When I turned back to the incredible scene unfolding before me, the strange woman was continuing her menacing advance forward, swinging her massive trunk from side to side like a fat, heavy, baseball bat made from fat, heavy flesh. With each swipe of her awe-inspiring prick, she swept pens, papers and all manner of desk ornaments all around the room. Every few strokes, she lifted her cock high into the air before smashing it down on the desk, sending splinters of wood all over the place and creating dents the size of an average man's fist. The perverse display seemed to suck the air from the room.

<hr pg="2" />At last, she had closed the gap between her and the desk and her huge sack rested gently atop the surface of the desk, slowly splaying out on either side of her titanic pillar of meat. She paused for a moment, allowing her heavy prick to rest squarely on the oak surface, protruding absurdly from her wide feminine hips upon which her hands were now resting. Her balls were a sight unto themselves, by far larger than the biggest I had ever seen. Like the rest of her body, they were perfectly blemish-free entirely hairless. They gently wrinkled as they spread across the desk, sloshing heavily from side to side with every little twitch of her cock.



Thick gouts of precum welled from her fat cumslit, utterly ruining the contracts and other documents now strewn across Mr. Halston's desk. It ran in pearly streams across the desk, beginning to pool in the splintered dents she had created with her battering ram of a pussy-smasher. The intoxicating sweet smell of her cockmilk was now wafting throughout the room, curling into my nostrils and overpowering the last shred of composure I was hoping to maintain. As was so often the case, my pussy had already gotten to the destination my mind was slowly heading towards. Hot juices streamed down my naked thighs as my hungry cunt clenched and unclenched in anticipation.



Her words broke the awful silence of the room: "Put your little cock away, you're only embarrassing yourself."



Mr. Halston snapped out of his daze. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he struggled to find words, to resist, to do ANYTHING that could somehow restore the manhood that was so obviously slipping through his fingers in the face of her mighty... well, womanhood! As though they were acting against him, his hands fumbled at his zipper, trying to perform the impossible task of somehow fitting his penis back into his fly.



Unfortunately, the effort of stuffing that monster meat back down his pant leg coupled with the world-class blowjob I had been giving him minutes earlier proved too much. He had just managed to pack his meat haphazardly away when a look I recognized very well crossed his face. His eyes squeezed shut and he seemed to be concentrating as hard as he could, fighting against his body. His face started to turn red and his hands, now gripping the edge of the desk, white from the effort of staving off orgasm. His mighty ramrod twitched once, twice, three times as his hips bucked in his chair; it was obvious that matter had won over mind, and the expanding wet spot halfway down his thigh only served to drive the point home. He was now a dog with its tail between its legs. Or rather, a high powered executive with his limp cock between them.



The strange woman stepped lithely around the desk, running her index finger through a particularly deep puddle of her precum on the desk as she walked. I was frozen in place as she strode past me, powerless to do anything but gawk as she turned her eyes to meet mine, lifted her finger to her mouth and gave a long, seductive suck—clearly enjoying the taste of her own juices. My pussy was wracked with another powerful shudder at the sight. She walked past, a swirl of intoxicating smells following in her wake, causing another spasm when they hit my nose. I bit down on my lower lip, hard. It was all I could do to keep a breathy moan from escaping my lips.



The strange woman was now resting on her haunches directly over Mr. Halston, her cock snaking downwards to rest gently on his well-muscled chest. From where I stood, her almighty fuck-weapon was obscured by her body. Not interested in missing even a moment of staring at that monster, I dropped to a squat, and almost automatically spread my pussy lips (enhanced by two separate labiaplasty procedures) and began to rub my tiny, rock-hard clit in small fast circles.



I was in for yet another surprise, as the strange woman tugged her low-hanging ball bag aside, revealing a perfectly hairless, delightfully plump, and beautifully pink pussy. Another gush of juices shot from deep within me and hit the ground with a nasty splat. I was utterly manhandling my clit now, mashing it into its hood as I rubbed my little joy-button furiously. I slipped one finger into my well-lubricated hole, then another, and another. Even three fingers met virtually no resistance. I usually wasn't one for masturbation—Mr. Halston kept me so busy I scarcely had time—but my hands acted without direction, moving independently of each other and my brain, focused only on getting me off as quickly as possible.



I turned back to the scene in front of me as the woman inched lower and lower onto her haunches until her pussy was hovering just about a foot above his crotch. Had Mr. Halston been hard, he would have been halfway inside her.



Her abdominal muscles flexed as she wiggled her hips. Without warning, a hot stream of piss blasted out of her perfect pussy, quickly soaking through Mr. Halston woolen suit pants. After just a few seconds of this onslaught, Mr. Halston's pants were utterly ruined and his meaty bulge was visible through the soaked, taut fabric. The strange woman threw her head back and sighed in ecstasy, seeming to relish in the humiliation she was dealing out. I noticed her abs flexing again as she pumped both fists up and down her cock, laboriously lifting it from Mr. Halston's chest and raising it to his eye level like she was hefting a fifty pound dumbbell. He barely had time to register fear on his face before a spray of urine erupted from her piss-slit, knocking his head back against the big bay windows. It was an animal display of utter and complete dominance.



Staring at the bizarre sight of this unknown woman emptying her bladder all over the man it was my job to worship, I couldn't help myself. I grunted a most-unladylike grunt as my pussy squeezed my fingers so hard it felt like they might break. My vagina gushed as I came, forming a puddle between my squatting feet. I howled as my g-spot and clit hummed in unison, waves of white-hot pleasure radiating from my core like lightning bolts. My vision turned to black as my body shut down rededicated itself to a new mission—pleasure, and nothing more. I felt my eyelids flutter, and I fell forward out of my squat and onto my hands knees, holding myself only momentarily there before collapsing and curling into a ball of pure, post-orgasmic haze. My brain closed for business, and I passed out, still trembling.



~~~~



By the time my deluge of steaming piss subsided, Mr. Halston was fully soaked. I looked him up and down, then looked over to the huddled form of Ms. Carroway, and couldn't resist cracking a little smile. My attention had all been on him—I hadn't noticed her working herself into an utter froth. My smile broadened. She seemed fun. While I would have liked to fuck her, knowing that I commanded this sort of power over her was almost just as good.



I returned my eyes to the hulking, yet now cowering man in front of me. Somehow finding a dry spot, I picked up his tie and daintily wiped the few remaining droplets of urine from my cockhead. As I let his tie fall back to his soaking wet torso, he tried and failed to suppress a moan. I noticed a huge, dark stain expanding from the bulge in his pants. Even though he had already cum once trying to stuff his absurd meat back into his pants, I could tell that he had just blasted another massive load into the wool fabric.



I certainly hadn't been trying to turn the once-imposing Mr. Halston on with my impromptu golden shower, merely to humiliate him in the basest, most animal way I could think of. But I had to admit, even for someone with my *ahem* extensive sexual history, seeing a man cum in his pants merely from getting pissed on was a first. "Good to know," I thought to myself.



Finally, I was ready to get what I came here for, I took a deep breath and addressed him.



"Do I have the job?"



"Alright! Fuck, alright!" Mr. Halston spluttered, "You can have the job! Stephanie, get the fuck out of here!"



"Oh no sweetie, not her job. Yours."

