Post 272: It's Not My Birthday, p1

“Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday Doctor Jayyyyyyyyy…” they all sang, surrounding me in the breakroom in their outfits, “....Happy Birthday to You!!!”

“It’s…” I said, my voice sounding weaker and smaller and more resigned than ever as I repeated myself for possibly the twentieth time, “...it’s not my birthday…”

Again, it fell on deaf ears. Again, they were all clapping, cooing, laughing and giggling and bouncing around like teenage girls. My staff, almost each and every one of them, was here in the back room we used for our lunches, for coffee, the occasional meeting…and they were all dressed like Hooters Girls.

Happy Halloween.

I’d been reminded that Halloween was coming countless times this week, from Melissa, from Randi, from just about everyone here at work. They seemed to be looking forward to it with a strange, giddy excitement, and now I know why. They’d had plans. They’d prepared. They’d…haha, I couldn’t help but think…set a trap.

“Happy Birthday Doctor Jay!!” the crowd of them all tittered and crowed, as Melissa herself - her figure the most luscious, staggeringly eye-popping of them all in her uniform from her previous job at the cheesecake restaurant across town - set this monstrosity of a cake onto the small table in front of me.

‘Life-size’, they’d told me…

It had been a strange week. We’ll, I guess they were all strange, these days. But, with the fashion shoot I’d walked in on Tuesday, Melissa being out yesterday and me being just barely saved from an overly enthusiastic Cici (who wasn’t here today I’d noticed) by Randi and Josie, this week was definitely par for the course. And here it was, Thursday. Halloween. I had come into the breakroom at the time they’d instructed me to show up - 1 PM sharp. Patients had been cancelled (against my better judgment, but that didn’t stand for much these days) for the afternoon; they really wanted to celebrate, I guess. Halloween! Dr. J’s Birthday! (it’s not my birthday…) The halls had already emptied, and I’d changed into my own costume: Mr. Fantastic. He was the rubber-boned, ultra-malleable leader of the Fantastic Four and a particular favorite of mine from my comic-book days; I’d had the outfit from a party years ago. My ex-wife Sheryl had been nice enough to make sure it made it to the front desk here this morning, pulled from storage from the basement of ou-…of her house. I looked sorta silly in the old, blue spandex-y thing which was now too big on me, but hey it’s Halloween. I was determined to be a good sport.

‘You HAVE to dress up,’ they’d told me. They were all planning on it.

And - oh boy - did they ever. Dress up, that is. In matching outfits.

A good portion of my staff - Katie, Shanette, Angie, Melissa herself and a handful of others - had all known one another as waitresses. Some of them had been friends even before that, from high school, but the fact remains that - yes - I’d hired an army of Hooters Girls to run my medical practice. And, when I’d stepped into the breakroom that afternoon, it was like I was attacked by a battalion of them. I’d never seen so much weaponized make-up, high-heels and hairspray in one room. It was a blitzkrieg of booty-shorts and big boobs.

“Surprise!” they’d all called out in unison, as soon as I entered, “Happy BIRTHDAY!!!”

The perfume nearly knocked my socks off, a chemical weapon that went immediately into me, gripping my lungs.

“It’s n-not my birthday…” I’d said, already confused and half in shock. Not only had the ex-waitresses pulled out their old uniforms, everyone else had apparently bought new ones for themselves, too. Each and every one of my staff - even Vida and Kathy, even Marisela and Morgan - were in the white, cleavage-baring tanks and distinctive orange shorts I’d come to secretly fetishize over the years. They were all tall - well, taller than me, at least - they were all curvy and fit, they were all obviously giddy and overjoyed at their little charade, their surprise for me. And when they swarmed to surround me to shove a mug of beer in one of my hands and a paper plate with a few wings in the other, the masquerade was complete. Though I’d laughed, shaking my head in good-natured humor and voicing my surprise, I was basically speechless.

“We poured you a Heiny…!” Stephanie had sang, as she’d given me the beer and immediately spun to shake an astonishing, gym-toned rear in those orange spandex shorts at me. The girls around her laughed and pulled in closer to me, hands all over my shoulders, my lower back. They were guiding me into the room, into the crowd. I had to fight not to outright goggle at my employees, in these outfits. Look at the tits on Shanette! The legs on Bianca! Mallory’s hips were huge! Katarina’s breasts looked ready to burst and even young Bobbi and Brittni, my longtime front-desk girls, had figures that were drop-dead luscious and on display. I gazed around, incredulous at the surroundings, but immediately noticed one piece of the scenery that was missing.

Melissa. Where was she?

I’d felt a little chill.

“Oh, don’t worry sweetie, she’s coming,” Marisela had purred, as if reading my mind as she leaned down into me, caressing my left shoulder with long, black-and-orange painted nails (had she just called me ‘sweetie’?). Her full tits - the ones between which I’d been forced to come, that drunken night in the waiting room - enveloped my upper arm.

“She’s just getting your surprise ready,” Randi followed from behind me, casually pressing a soft, spandex-wrapped breast into the back of my neck.

“She made it herself,” Josie had added, squashing herself now against my right arm.

“And if she can walk in those new heels she bought for today,” Amelia had concluded in her own dry way, “she’ll be squeezing herself in here any minute now. Honestly this place is too crowded…”

It was true; this breakroom was never meant to hold so many people. How many of them were there? Twenty-Five? Thirty? More? There were girls over there - Aubrey, Bessie, Lexi - laughing, getting jiggle-lessons from Katie. Nadia and Silvia were playfully spanking the smiling, bemused intern Sammi on her surprisingly full, orange-shorted rear, both crowing in gleeful surprise with each slap: “How is it getting bigger each time we hit you?!?” And someone - holy shit, who was that? - was bent over the catering table fixing a plate, her enormously voluptuous rear ready to burst right through her overmatched shorts. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the huge, heart shaped display, hips seemingly twice as wide as mine, an ass so big it seemed to-

“If this whole ‘Lead Medical Assistant’ thing doesn’t work out for her, I think Boom-Boom’s got a bright future in the bar-food service industry, don’t you doc?” Amelia had drawled, just as Lakshmi - oh my god it was her! - straightened up with a two small platters of chicken, one balanced in each hand. I’d been caught leering at her ass by Amelia, for sure, and the look Lakshmi gave me seemed to imply that she’d known where my eyes had been, too.

She’d stepped towards us with the platter, obviously wanting to make sure everyone got something to eat. “Wings? Thighs? Breasts?  What do you like?” someone asked me, as Lakshmi’s eyes lowered to meet mine again. God, she was gorgeous now, in more makeup than I’d usually see her in, and wore an expression both shy and proud. She was maybe reticent about the blatantly immodest uniform, but roused by the reaction it stirred in me, audaciously flaunting her startlingly-full chest and jaw-dropping hips. She was taller than me now, and bit her lower lip as she looked in my eyes while others took piece after piece of sauce-soaked chicken and laid them on my plate, or grabbed some for themselves. “He’s a breast man! We all know that!”

This was humiliating, but I was caught up in it and had resolved to embrace the moment. The girls had planned something fun, and even though - yes - I was once again the butt of their jokes, I would not be a party pooper.

“Shanette your ‘Hooters’ are getting in his food...” Amelia had scolded, as haha right my plate was now pressed up against Shanette’s astonishing, mocha-rich bosom.

“I don’t think he’ll mind..!” she’d laughed back, “he can eat right off them if he wants.”

“Oh uh sorry…” I’d apologized, now laden with both my beer and an overloaded plate.

“So who are you supposed to be, Dr. J?” Lakshmi had asked me, speaking finally, “What’s your costume?”.

“Omigod it’s so cute!” sang Josie.

“He’s some kind of, like, superhero,” someone had answered.

“A super man that’s adorable!” called someone else.

“Superman hm?” I’d heard Randi growl from behind me as her big breasts settled more firmly around the back of my neck, “We’ll, we know just what Dr J's kryptonite is, don’t we girls?”

”I’m mr fantastic…not superman…” I’d spoken in a voice I’m sure no one heard, just as I watched Shanette thrust out her giant chest and start to giggle. Indeed, my eyes shot to it, rendered helpless.

“We sure do!” Josie had laughed, squeezing her tits more firmly into my right arm, followed quickly in kind by the rest of them, all shoving their formidable bosoms in towards my face, save the tall blonde now to my right.

“It’s like Attack of the Bimbos huh, Dr J?” Amelia had cracked, slowly drawing in her own deep breath and immediately seizing my gaze to herself with her surgically-inflated-but-now-even-larger  tits.

The girls had laughed, jiggling and squeezing themselves all around me in a shameless onslaught of their boobs, all push-up bras, HOOTERS logos and softly overwhelming, pillowy warmth. I’d tried to laugh again, myself, but could hear the tremulous anxiety in my own voice as I became more and more surrounded. To them this was a blast, a big joke weeks in the making. To me? I felt like a-

“Let’s get him to sit down,” Randi had instructed, “Missy’s almost here.”

Before I knew it, I’d been led to one of the small breakroom tables, one of the cheap chairs had been slid behind me and I’d been forced to sit, and my beer was down in front of me. Someone had forced a gulp down my throat and the crowd had parted so I could get a clear view of what was coming in through the door…

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Thanks to Migsanch for the Melissa BE morph, and Jessica Carter for putting her in uniform