Growing into the Job, Post 562: The Tale of Queen Angie, p9

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

The alarm went off just as I was finishing the last spritzes of perfume, sitting at my desk. Wrists, yes. Neck, of course. Tits? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Sharp, synthetic, powerful. I call it “Brain Melter: Inspired by Missy” but really there’s some of my own natural scent in there as well. I’d had it custom-ordered from that fancy-schmancy boutique downtown - Merz Parfumerie. I’d brought in one of those Melissa-pheromone-infused facemasks I’d snagged, to base the scent on that, and told them to make me my own perfume super-bomb. I just picked up this bottle of it last night. Perfect. Honestly, to me, it smelled more like weaponized air freshener than mind control, but if it got him dizzy and obedient, and made him obsessed with me instead of her, I’d take it.

I didn’t jump when the sirens started. Everyone else did, but once that package was found by the car-dealer laundry-guy I figured this was coming. I’d spied on the doofuses who planned out this whole bomb-thing, peeking in on their little nighttime meeting in the woods Monday night, so I knew their plan. 

Papers went flying, phones hit the floor, and the admin girls started running in circles like caffeinated chickens. Outside my office - well, my cubicle - the hallway had erupted into chaos: doors slamming, voices shouting, the metallic whine of the alarm chewing through everyone’s nerves. Me? I didn’t rush. I knew the bomb would be at the feet of that stupid Melissa statue, but wasn’t set to go off for - well, who knows. Anyway, I straightened my skirt, checked my reflection in the blank computer screen. My makeup was still pretty much covering the wild-cat scratches Amelia had given me at the gala - they were angry, still, which looked great in my attorney’s photos for the lawsuit. The red strobe from the alarm lights flashed across my face every second or so, like a photographer’s bulb, and I smiled into my reflection. Showtime.

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

Bomb scare, evacuation, chaos - the universe practically rolling out a red carpet, just for me.

I grabbed my phone, slipped it into my purse along with the bottle of Brain Melter. I stepped out, letting the sharp click of my black leather boots cut through the noise as I made my way down the corridor. Staff were streaming toward the emergency back exit, clutching files, handbags, half-finished coffees. I went the other way.

Red lights flashed along the walls - pulsing, almost theatrical. It felt like a cue.

I took the short service corridor that would get me to the old FHMA geriatrics wing. Back here, the air smelled like burnt dust. I don’t know what everyone always talks about, how nice everything always smells everywhere in this place: are they really that addicted to Missy’s pheromones? Anyway, emerging  out of the service hallway through a back door into Geriatrics, suddenly the air was all hand sanitizer and gauze. But, whatever it was - dust, Purell, even Missy’s stank - I could tell: my new perfume cut through it all like sin.

Once I got into the halls of the old clinic, I didn’t have to look far. Through the smoke-gray haze of panic, I spotted him - Dr. J, poor thing, a duckling half-ducking under the giant new PA’s wing. I’m really good at reading people and she - Jewel was her name, I think, originally from South Africa - looked all different flavors of pissed: stressed, disappointed, frustrated. She was trying to shepherd him back away from the front exit, since they’d sealed off the Atrium...y’know, where the bomb was. She and he were stuck behind the crowd of old farts also trying to leave geriatrics, all looking for the emergency exit. Even among all those shriveled prunes he looked… smaller, somehow. Paler. Like the noise itself was pressing him down.

Perfect.

I picked up my pace, timing it so our paths would intersect right where the hallway split - there would be one way toward the emergency exit, but another toward the service stairwell nobody ever used.

I adjusted my bra, pushed up the girls. Time for Titty Monster to roll into action. 

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

“Oops!” I gasped, pitching my voice just right as we collided. His shoulder brushed my hip - oh, fuck: his shoulder comes up to my hip. That’s HOT. I mean, unlike all these moron jigglebunnies that work here I haven’t grown a fucking inch, I’m still barely 5’7”, Maybe 5’10” in these heels, but still. He’s shorter than my tits. Anyway, we banged into one another - not hard, just enough. He flinched like I’d hit him with a taser.

“Oh my God, Doctor J!” I squealed, reaching out to steady him, eyes wide, tone sugary and ripe with concern. “You okay? I need to watch these hips!”

“Oh, uh, no, yeah…h-hi Angie,” he said. He was puny and looked so scared and freaked out - good.

Jewel cocked her head, looked down at me. One of her hands went to his shoulder.

“These alarms are insane, right? My eardrums are gonna pop!” I marveled, wide-eyed, looking up - and up - at the insanely tall girl, Jewel, that was guiding him ahead of her. She’s pretty, I’ll give her that, I immediately thought, with that caramel skin tone, the perfect blonde ringlets, and the eyes and dimples almost enormous enough to match her tits. Among all the chaos, I offered her my hand. “You’re Jewel, right? I’m Angie. Dr J and I go way back.”  

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

He muttered something to the contrary, obviously super-flustered, but Jewel didn’t seem to be listening to him and cut in smoothly, her rich voice carrying even over the alarm. She was definitely distracted. “It’s fine, Angie. You should get outside, eh?”

I put on my best apologetic smile. “Actually, let me help. He looks a little overwhelmed, poor thing...” I gave Dr. J a sympathetic pat on the arm, turning back to Jewel. “...and you must have your hands full right now, being the director of the clinic, having to evacuate all these patients, making sure staff gets out. I can take care of him if you need to go be with your team.”

For a moment, Jewel hesitated, the red lights flickering across her face. There was that professional half-smile - grateful on the surface, gears turning underneath.

“That’s so kind of you, eh?” she beamed, suddenly coming to a private decision amidst all the shit going on. “They’ve actually called me back to the research wing -  a few male subjects can’t be moved without help.” She glanced at Dr. J, then back at me. “You’ll see him out?”

Dr J, below us both, started to argue: but I was faster. My hand was on his mouth, covering it, before he could finish whatever it was he was going to say. I think it would’ve been something I wouldn’t want. 

“Of course,” I said sweetly. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Jewel nodded, already half-turning back the way she’d come. Now, she was all business. “Appreciate it.” She glanced down at Dr. J. “Okay, little bokke, we’ll continue where we left off later. Make sure you both check in with Aubrey once you're outside.”

Whatever.

She was walking away. 

“Will do!” I called after her.

And just like that, she was gone - through the crowd of retreating old duffers, leaving the hallway around us strangely quiet except for the echoing alarm.

I turned back to him, smile tightening just a notch. “Well,” I said lightly, “looks like it’s just us now, huh?”

“G-great,” he said (once I took my hand off his mouth). He seemed agitated, embarrassed, like he was having just the worst of mornings.

Maybe I can make it better.

He tried to exert some authority. Hilarious. “We should head out to the parking l-” 

“Here,” I said quickly, taking his hand and guiding away from the direction the crowd was going. “Let’s take the stairs…” I’d already dragged him halfway to the door of the stairwell.

“The st-…?” He hesitated, of course - the stairs would not lead outside. But the noise, the lights, the panic - I think it was confusing him, it was too much for him, making it all blur together. And maybe my blouse, unbuttoned halfway down my cleavage, was partly to blame, too haha. All I had to do was smile, press just a little closer, make it sound like I was helping and just like that, his steps fell in line.

He even tried to open the metal door for me but awwww…

“It’s too heavy, isn’t it?” I cooed, “Allow me…”

Without me here you’d be trapped in here with a bomb, huh? How’s that make you feel, twerp?

The stairwell door slammed behind us with a metallic clank that swallowed most of the alarm. Out there it was chaos - sirens, shouting, heels on tile. In here, it was just the slow drone of the warning system, muffled by industrial concrete walls, its blaring steady and dull as a heartbeat.

<BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH-BWAAAAH>

Cool air slid down the stairwell shaft, carrying the faint smell of the ongoing construction from upstairs: plaster and drywall, paint and more dust. They were building living quarters for the staff up there; some of the new girls from Coronado were moved in already, the others would be ready for us soon. Another set of stairs from this landing led down into the first basement level, where we had the pool and other shit. Meanwhile, the narrow window in the door we just came through pulsed red every few seconds, each flash painting his face pale, startled, like a baby gazelle that’s just realized it’s alone, separated from the herd by the pretty, curvy, lioness.

The lioness is me, get it?

He had stopped, already glancing back toward the exit sign above the door we just came through. “Shouldn’t we be - uh - moving?” he said, half-raising his voice as if I might not hear him. “They said to clear the building.”

“Relax,” I told him, letting my tone soften to a near purr. “We’ve got a minute or two. Nobody’s going to miss us in this stampede.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking again to the door behind me. The overhead light buzzed faintly, a single fluorescent tube giving everything a flat, unreal tone, like a film set between takes.

I took one step toward him, and he took one back, instinctively, then another. Every inch he gave up, I accepted greedily, with a smile. I didn’t even have to say anything; he just did it, ceded it to me. I stepped him back some more, until he had to step backwards up one stair, then two, putting his eyes now almost level with my throat. 

The faint pulse of my new perfume hung between us, clean and sharp, floral and something deeper. I leaned in towards him a bit, getting the warm skin of my throat and upper chest as close to him as I could. The concrete made every breath bounce back at me, so I spoke quieter, the sound close and circular. “See?” I said. “We finally get a second to…breathe.”

I watched him take in a breath, and his brow furrowed. 

He blinked, looking uneasy. “Y-you don’t think this is serious?”

“Oh, it’s serious,” I said, tipping my head, watching the faint red reflections of light pulse in his eyes and looking for some hint of change. “But sometimes the universe hands you a little moment. Just you and me.”

“A-Angie no we should-“

“Shhhhh….” I hushed him, pushing my perfume-soaked skin even closer to him. I could almost see it settling onto him, a new presence along with the hush, the hum of lights, his tension. I let it stretch into him, and regretted not using more, earlier. “I’m glad we have this,” I murmured. “A little privacy, for once.” The bottle was still in my purse, at my side, I knew.

I made the moment stretch on. The stairwell felt like an airlock for us - quiet except for the alarm bleeding faintly through the metal door behind me, and the surrounding air all ours…well, mine. Every pulse of red light from the hall flickered against the gray walls, cutting across his face in sharp intervals, and every second that went by more and more of my new scent began to dominate the space. He looked paler still. Frazzled. Small. His voice was so little and weak as - still saying we should leave - he tried to plead and bleat with me. Like a kid, a baby goat. 

Perfect.

I had one hand on the railing, and was pretending to catch my breath. The concrete vibrated faintly under our shoes, a steady mechanical hum. “So,” I said, pitching my voice light, conversational, “you’re getting pretty close with Jewel, huh?”

He blinked, startled. “Wh-what? ‘Close’? N-no - who told you that?”

I laughed, short and dry. “Not that I’m exactly part of the grapevine anymore - most of the grapes don’t like me anymore  - but I still hear things. People talk. About Jewel and you.”

“There’s no ‘Jewel and me’,’” he said. His voice was too fast, too defensive. I liked pushing guys’ buttons, and this was - now, plain to me - one of them.

“Well,” I said, tilting my head, “maybe not yet. But she’s got her sights set, doesn’t she? You can’t miss that kind of confidence.” I trailed one fingertip casually down my neck, down over the swell of my right breast, and saw how he struggled to keep his eyes off where it landed. Maybe this perfume is working, I thought. “A new face shows up, everyone suddenly listens to her, and she starts winning the game. And you - well - you’d be the prize.” I let the words hang a moment, studying how his shoulders had stiffened. If my perfume was working on him, he didn’t exactly look like he was swooning for me yet. In fact, he looked a little nauseous. Probably the nerves, being around a pretty girl. “You’ve got to be careful, Doctor. Sometimes these outsiders sweep in and act like they own the place. And the people inside it.”

He rubbed at his temple, still shaken from the noise outside and maybe now something else. “Sh-she…Jewel…she was just helping me get out of the building.” He furrowed his brow some more. “And, plus, I’m with Melissa now…”

“Sure,” I said easily. “Sure you are.”

For a second we just stood there, the hum of the alarm muffled behind the door, dust floating in the red strobe light. I could feel the power shift in the silence - him uncertain, me steady, watching. Inside, I smiled. Finally alone. Finally he’s in my kitchen, in my oven, I thought. I;m good with metaphors like that. Time to turn up the heat. See?

“So, do you like my perfume?” I asked, as I took a moment to release him from the attention I had laser-locked on him. I went to my little purse and pulled out the bottle of fragrance, in its fancy crystal bottle. The label on it said only my name. I showed it to him. “It’s new,” I said, and made him watch as I spritzed my neck, then my chest. Once, then again, as tiny aerosolized droplets filled the air between us and settled on my pale, soft skin. Immediately my body began to heat it up. 

I heard him let out a little gasp - it sounded choked, actually - and watched with a thrill of satisfaction as his eyes glazed over, his little body swaying slightly on those two steps above the landing. Even with the extra foot or so from the stairs, his face was perfectly level with my throat and chest - my glorious, heaving bosom that I'd so generously doused in this divine new perfume. The scent - I could smell it myself - was like liquid power, wafting up now from the deep valley of my cleavage, where my silk blouse parted just enough to tease the edges of my black bra. God, I love watching men like him crumble. I took the chance to glance down and saw that he was already tenting those pathetic, kid-sized scrubs of his, a massive bulge straining against the fabric of his right thigh.

“You okay there,sweetie?” I asked, fighting back a smile.

Now the dizziness was hitting him hard. His cheeks flushed, knees buckling just a bit, like a puppet with its strings loosening. My puppet.

"Oh, poor little Dr. J," I purred, leaning in even closer, my breasts brushing against his chin as I cupped the back of his head with one hand. I could feel his hot breath quickening, inhaling more of that intoxicating mist with every gasp. "You're feeling it now, aren't you? That rush...that weakness, that smell of a pretty girl. It's okay, sweetie. Just breathe it in deeper. Let it fill you up. Do you feel how hard it's making you? That's all for me, isn't it?"

He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes fixated on the swell of my tits, the way they rose and fell with my breathing. I smirked, knowing I had him right where I wanted - trapped in my oven, my scent rewriting his feeble male brain. But I wasn't just any woman; I was Angie Wade, the Titty Monster, the one who really deserved this. Who else could handle a man like him? Certainly not that moron Melissa. The thought of her - once I would have called her my friend, I guess -  now made my blood simmer.  Why would he choose her, when he could have me? Sure, she was an Amazon - guys liked that, these days -  possibly growing into a giant. And, sure, there were the tits that were, if I’m being honest, three times the size of mine. Plus there was all the fucking superpowers. But she had a brain like a sieve, and I had a Masters in Buisiness Administration from fucking Bowling Green. I mean, I didn’t even want him as a boyfriend, but I knew having him was some sort of key to taking this place over.

It was, right?

I straightened up a fraction, towering over him even more in my four-inch heels, my tight pencil skirt hugging my wide hips like a second skin.  I held the back of his head firmly in my right hand, but he was struggling, for sure, looking woozy on his legs. I hope I’m not making him sick.

Suck it up, weakling.

"Think about Melissa," I whispered, my voice dripping with mock sympathy as I pressed my chest forward, smothering his face gently against the soft, perfumed flesh. He groaned as he took his next breath of me, of my new perfume right from my cleavage, and his hands started twitching at his sides. You want to touch, but you can’t muster the will, huh? Or maybe that’s some sort of, I dunno…spasm? Whatever… "She's your girlfriend, right? That sweet, simple girl? But honestly, Dr. J, she's not the brightest bulb, is she? Always fumbling through reports, giggling at nothing. How's she really supposed to protect a tiny thing like you as this world gets harder and harder for men? You're so small already - and you’re still shrinking, aren't you? I've noticed it these past weeks. The world's getting bigger around you, more dangerous. Men like you need a real woman. Someone not only bigger and stronger but smarter. Someone like me."

I let my fingers trail down the back of his neck, and I could feel the pulse from his face racing against my breasts. The perfume was working overtime now, his erection throbbing as I pushed my knee into it.

I chuckled when he gasped again, maybe more a groan, into my tits. There was probably pre-cum soaking through his scrub pants by this point. Fuck-!, I nearly moaned. I didn’t want to stain my skirt but otherwise I may have made him jizz right then and there - he was so tense, ready to come already. I love this new perfume!!  It made me feel invincible, like the alpha she-wolf of this coming new order where women like me ruled supreme - right? - our bodies weapons, our minds sharp as knives. But deep down, a flicker of doubt crept in: What if I wasn't enough? What if he wanted a 50-foot tall super-bimbo, one that would forget him in her purse? No, I pushed it aside. I was everything this new world was about, I would be what he needed, what he would have to glom on to if he wanted to survive.

I reached down, and grabbed his cock through his scrubs.

Whatever it was - his arousal, his dizziness, some permanent stroke that the perfume was causing - peaked then, and he staggered forward, collapsing against me with a whimper. I caught him easily, my arm now encircling his skinny, shrimpy frame, at the same time pulling his face deeper into my cleavage. My scent enveloped him completely now, his body absolutely trembling with his attraction and submission to me….and maybe some weird nerve-spasm things. "That's it," I cooed, squeezing his hardness, feeling it pulse in response through his clothes. "Give in to me. Let go of her. You're mine now."

Almost before I even knew what I was doing - though, honestly, I’d had this moment planned out for a while now - I was untying his scrub pants and yanking them down. Unceremoniously, I pulled his face from my tits, pushed him back, and sat him with a little <thump> onto the stair behind himself. He sat on the step bare-assed, as his pants and boxers were already down near his knees. 

"You need me to guide you, to dominate you," I continued, speaking down to him, pressing, my tone shifting to commanding silk as I unbuttoned my blouse. His eyes, predictably, couldn’t look away. “Yeah, I’ve put on some weight on them - everywhere else, too. Maybe it shows in my face a little but the rack is worth it, don’t you think?” I had to keep up with these bimbos somehow.

He could only moan.

"Imagine it, though. Imagine me wrapping you up in these massive tits, smothering away all your worries.” In my bra, blouse hanging open, I pressed my breasts together between my elbows, swelling them up like two balloons. “I'd make you worship them, kiss every inch while I decide what's best for you. Melissa doesn’t know what’s best for you. She's too stupid. She was dumb back in high school and she’s even dumber now. But I...I'd keep you safe, little man. Shrink all you want. I'll just grow more important around you."

I dropped to my knees in front of him. Ouch. The cement of the landing was hard on my knees but whatever because: Holy shit this thing is huge -  I marveled, already imagining myself gagging around it - but maybe that’s only because he’s such a twerp behind it. Probably because he wasn’t smothered in my perfumed skin anymore, he was able to groan in protest when I grabbed his shaft:

“A-Angie- n-n-No!” his voice cracked, and he tensed forward at the hip but with my other hand I pushed him back, kinda roughly, so he sat backwards on the steps, catching himself on his elbows. He was so fucking weak. His knees were already spread akimbo, like he was offering himself to me.

I slid in closer, and dropped my chest onto his lap.

His mouth dropped open as I pushed his cock between my tits. In my bra, there was more than enough cleavage to almost cover him. God, is he a foot long?? I wondered in amazement, knowing my tits were probably big enough to completely surround anything else.

“Angie NOOoooooOOooOooo….!” he moaned, as I started to move my torso up and down his fucking cock, sliding the hard, solid, swollen thing with all its veins and angry redness in and out of my tits. His pre-cum was already making my cleavage slick.

“Oh, c’mon, relax,” I cooed, smiling right up into him; at this angle, and at our heights, our faces were inches away, “What's the harm? Nobody will ever know. It's not your fault you have such an…active sex drive. So virile. So filled with power.” Up and down his cock I went, up and down, only thinking for a second that - as big as I was - I was not nearly as big as fucking Melissa. “It's filled you to bursting! Let it out, breathe deep, and let Big Angie take care of it for you,” I said, as I tilted my chin up a bit, gave him some throat and maybe a little more perfume as his eyes started to roll, “That's it, just like that…”

“Y-Youre drugging me…” he said, his head lolling back to look at me. His voice was both strained and at the same time distant. “Th-there’s something in your perfume…it’s m-making me sick…”

“‘Making you sick’?? Is that what you call it?” I laughed, still tit-fucking the little shrimp on the concrete stairwell, the cold on my knees contrasting the heat of his body, “Well, news flash, buddy: Melissa’s been doing this to you since the beginning. You must have figured it out by now - ‘cuz I certainly have…”

The little twerp was starting to shake and spasm under me and my titfuck. I must be better at this than I thought.

“...it’s her pheromones, doing all this weird shit. Making her jigglebunny worker bees grow, turning them all into superfreaks. And the pheromones are doing this to you, too, shrinking you, making you our little…pet. Now you’re basically addicted to Melissa's pheromones, you can’t go anywhere without them. They’re pumping them into the HVAC here, I know that because I know one of the HVAC guys. And plus they come out of all these bitches in her hive.”

His eyes were wide - surprise? Shock? Was he about to blow an aneurysm? Whatever it was, his protests had melted into moans, and despite that look on his face I knew he loved this shit. 

“And that’s why you’ve been feeling sick when you leave the office, or aren’t near her or one of the girls. Did you know that, huh? Did Saint Melissa tell you that? No, she didn’t, did she..?” I said, pumping him harder and harder now. Truth be told, he did look a little green.

“And I’m convinced that the pheromones are what made you fall in love with her, babe. It just makes sense. Why else would it happen? I mean, you’re a doctor, she’s a brain donor. Her pheromones are warping your mind, making you think you can’t live without her,” I said, watching his face convulse. “So, with my new perfume, there’s no reason you can’t love me. I’m smarter, I can be so much more for you than her.”

“Nnnnoooo….th-that can’t be true….” he moaned, hips shaking, head still lolling, “Melissa l-loves meeee….”

Uccch, I thought, suddenly stopping the titfuck. This was actually starting to piss me off a bit. I pulled him out of my cleavage - held him in my hand, his shaft, and gave it a good squeeze. His little body, sitting there on the steps, shook violently. I squeezed him again, for good measure, and picked up the perfume bottle with my free hand as his little puppet-body convulsed again.

“What? You think you and Missy are going to be in love? Get married?” I sneered, watching him writhe under my control, “You think you’re going to…what? Have kids?”

He looked at me, eyes watery, and the expression said it all: yeah, that’s what he wants. It kinda made me mad.

“Well, think again, twerp, about those kids,” I said, feeling my eyes flash as I readied myself, “I’m going to swallow them all.”

And with that I sprayed him in the face with my perfume-of-mass-destruction and then was down, down into his lap with my head, impaling myself on his foot-long dick, my lips, jaw and throat opening for him. I was going to give him a blow job he’d never forget - if he survived it.

“GgggGGaaahhhggghgggghhhh…!” he screamed, in that pathetic little voice. 

Oh, this was it - my crowning moment, the ultimate conquest. I could already taste victory, literally, as I engulfed him, my lips stretching around that ridiculous monster of a cock, sliding down inch by throbbing inch until my nose brushed his shrunken little pubes. It really was incredible, how his cock remained this big while the rest of him had shrunk away. He was just so…fucking…big, and yet so…fucking…small.

God, it made the size contrast so intoxicating: me, the towering temptress in heels, kneeling but still dominating this pint-sized doctor, his dick somehow defying his diminutive frame like a cruel joke from the universe. Oooo that’s good I should write that down.  I bobbed slowly at first, savoring the power, my tongue swirling around the head on each upstroke, feeling him pulse against my throat like he was built just for this. ”Mmm, that's right,” I told him, sliding him out for just a moment, so he could hear my inner goddess preening, "surrender to the Titty Monster, you pathetic shrimp. I'll milk you so dry, drain so much of your seed I permanently change your T levels."

He couldn’t say a word. He was a mess above me, and I loved it. The perfume blast I'd given him straight to the face - frustration-fueled, sure - had hit like a freight train. When I went back down on him, gobbling him in again, his eyes rolled back, eyelids fluttering wildly, and his whole body arched off the step in what I took for pure, agonized bliss. An unrestrained howl escaped him, guttural and desperate, like he was being…I dunno. Torn apart by ecstasy? Torn apart by something, that was for sure. 

"A-Angie... oh fuck...please..!" he gasped, his tiny hands finally finding the will to grip my hair, not pulling away but yanking. I like to think he was urging me deeper, as if the scent of the perfume and my amazing haha “oral talents” had unlocked some primal submission. I could feel his thighs trembling under my palms, his hips bucking involuntarily into my mouth, the veins along his shaft swelling against my lips. The perfume's power (poison?) surged through him, amplifying everything - his arousal hitting overdrive, pre-cum flooding my tongue in salty waves. He was mine, utterly broken, worshipping at the Altar of Angie in this New World Order where women like me - smart, stacked - would be supreme, claiming what we deserved. Insecure? Me? Ha, not now, not with him spasming like this, his shrunken form quaking as I deep-throated him effortlessly, my massive tits brushing his knees with every dip.

The tension in his body built like a storm, erotic and electric. I quickened my pace, slurping noisily, letting saliva drip down his balls for that extra slick humiliation. I looked up at him with my big, wide eyes. His breaths came in ragged, heaving pants, his face flushed crimson, sweat beading on his forehead as he thrashed - ecstasy again, right? Agonized, unrestrained…but ecstasy. "Come for me, little man," I murmured around him, vibrating the words into his skin. Fill me up and forget that bimbo forever. His cock twitched harder, the buildup coiling tight in his core - I could feel it, the impending explosion, his body tensing like a spring about to snap. Deeper, faster, my throat relaxing to take him all, my narcissism (yeah I admit it) swelling with each gag-suppressed moan from him. This was supremacy: me engulfing him, taking his future, his kids, his everything, in one triumphant-

And then it hit. He climaxed with a strangled roar, hot jets shooting straight down my throat, thick and endless, forcing me to swallow greedily to keep up. Victory! But in that exact split-second, his face contorted - not in release, but in horror - and a guttural retch echoed from above. Before I could process, warm, curdled vomit spewed from his mouth, splattering right onto my perfectly styled hair, dribbling down my forehead like some nightmare shampoo. WHAT THE FUCK?!? The acrid stench hit me instantly: bile mixed with whatever sad breakfast - it looked like milk -  he'd had, ruining not just my hair but my silk blouse, seeping down into my cleavage. The crown of my crowning moment was not one I’d expected. 

"What - the - FUCK!: - I actually yelped it - yanking back mid-swallow, cum and puke mixing in a grotesque cocktail on my chin as I gagged myself. Oh god, the humiliation suddenly flamed hotter than anything I'd buried: me, Angie Wade, the would-be queen of this pheromone empire, covered in barf like a frat-party reject. 

“UGGGH!!” I yelled, right at him, and he recoiled like the frightened cretin he was - even as he was still coming. 

My thoughts were not on him though anymore, but on what had happened to me. Was this karma? No, couldn't be - I deserved better, the best, everything! But there I was, sputtering, wiping frantically at the mess, my victory shattered in one pukey punchline.

In my stunned horror, Dr. J seized the moment like a slippery eel. Still twitching from his dual eruption, he scrambled up, yanking up his scrub pants with shaky hands, his face green but determined. "S-sorry... gotta... go!" he wheezed, bolting down the stairs before I could even react and grab him, his tiny feet pattering away into the basement echoes. I sat there on my knees, reeking of defeat, the alarm's distant wail mocking me as I realized: maybe the perfume was too powerful. Or maybe I was. But, fuck me, it certainly didn’t feel that way…

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thanks to friend-of-theBasic ElephantPorn for the original imagery