And Other Duties As Required Ch. 01-04

Author's Forward: Hello everybody! As promised, this one is heavy on the TG aspects and a good deal more pornographic than my last tale! It's also quite a bit longer. This posting (ch1-4) represents the first of three parts.

Enjoy!

And Other Duties As Required

- A Smutty Novel -

By Razmagurk

Part 1

-= Prologue =-

We'd just been given the green light.

I closed my eyes. I could hear the roar of the crowd even here. They were impatient. Excited. Hungry.

We were thirty minutes behind schedule. Something to do with the lighting or the staging. Something beyond our control. They didn't care. All they cared about was us. I looked up at one of the posters plastered on the greenroom wall. The three of us in those ridiculous outfits doing those ridiculous poses. The crowd ate it up. They'd see us soon enough.

"You ready?" the petite bespeckled girl to my left laughed. As though she wasn't just as nervous.

I nodded enthusiastically. How could I not be? Everything had been leading up to this. All of the hard work we'd been doing, all the training, all the practice. We had suffered. All for this. If tonight went well, we'd finally be able to break free. We'd be in control of our own destinies. I couldn't think of a sweeter prize than that.

The three of us gripped hands tightly as we walked back stage, getting into position for the start. All around us people rushed to complete last-minute preparations. An entire troupe - an entire industry - devoted to one thing: making us look good.

My hips swung invitingly as I walked. I had once struggled to even stand in these heels. Now, everywhere I went I left a trail of cute guys stunned in my wake. I gave them a sweet smile as I passed. They were putty in my hands.

I couldn't blame them, really. Who could resist, looking the way I did? Men. It seemed so long ago now that I had been one of them. What a difference a month makes. I winked at one of the techs scurrying around with a clipboard. I wanted to show him exactly how much I appreciated all his hard work.

The three of us stepped out onto the stage. It was pitch black. I don't know if it was the cool air or the sheer pressure of thousands of fans staring, but a shiver ran through my hot skin.

The music started. I swallowed the last of my nerves. It was showtime.

The track was soft at first, but it ramped dramatically as the lights threw aside the curtain of darkness and revealed us to our waiting throng of hungry onlookers. The crowd squealed and cheered.

Blinded by the spotlight I could barely make them out, but I could hear them. The frenzied pitch of their excited screaming was so fervent it almost drowned out the music. I drank it in. They loved us. They love me. A concert hall full of horny fans. These people had spent their hard-earned money to buy tickets, to buy our merch. And now it was time to give them something back.

"Thank you all for coming!" said the bubbly girl on my right, pulling up her already barely-there skirt and spreading her glistening pussy lips. The fans went crazy. "Look how wet we are for all of you!"

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. My eyes went wide.

"We've been working very hard!" said the girl on my left, bending over to show her naked ass as she looked out at the crowd over her shoulder. "So please watch us get fucked like the squealing whore bitches we are!"

The music swelled as the dancers on stage behind us tore off their pants. My breath hitched as I saw what lay beneath. Their cocks - grotesquely huge - hung down well past their knees. I could feel my pulse pounding, my mouth watering. I gasped as the vibrating bullet in my costume's tissue-thin panties flared to life, a soft low pulsing in time with the music shooting electric bolts of knee-shaking pleasure through my traitorous clitoris.

What - I gasped - what was happening? It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry out and put my foot down, to put a stop to this here and now, but I couldn't look away from the crowd, I couldn't let my smile fall away. The show had to go on.

And so I just grinned through gritted teeth at the VIP box, glaring at the woman I knew was responsible for all this. She grinned right back. Her lips broke into laughter as she waved a chastising finger in my direction. A stern reminder that if I didn't play along things were going to get much worse.

My heart broke. All the hard work we'd done. All the training and practice, singing and dancing until our bodies were about to break. And now all that people were going to hear was us screaming out as we roiled and thrashed in feminine rapture.

I turned to look at the man waiting for me at the back end of the stage. He was tall and handsome - small mercy - but what really mattered was the body-breaking size of his dick.

This was her plan all along. We had never been intended to perform. We were here to get fucked and degraded like a sex object in front of thousands of screaming fans. I shook. Why did that idea sound so enticing? I could smell my own arousal mixing in with the horny sweat of the crowd.

I took a step forward, towards that delicious hunk of meat. And then, as though we had choreographed the whole thing, my bandmates and I all fell to our knees. His musk filled my lungs, setting my mouth to water. I reached out an impatient tongue.

As the lust and sex consumed me all I could do was wonder: what had my life become?

-= Chapter 1 =-

"What the hell are you doing in my office?"

"Oh, Mik Mik!" the woman turned as I opened the door. Her face lit up with a smile I'm sure was supposed to be charming. "I'm glad your finally here."

I frowned at her familiarity. I had once made the mistake of openly admonishing her for referring to me by my first name instead of as Mr. Mizuguchi, and she had made a pointed effort to use that ridiculous nickname ever since.

"What do you want, Madeline?" I stepped inside, careful to leave the door open. I didn't want anybody getting the wrong idea.

She put the framed photo she'd been inspecting back on the bookshelf with all the others. Her vibrant clothing was a colorful contrast against the mahogany wood and brass I'd furnished the place with. It was old fashioned, sure, but it projected a sense of power, a sense of authority. It commanded respect. Respect which this woman saw fit to deny me at every opportunity.

"Do I have to want something to visit my favorite producer?" She took a step towards me, her hips swinging beneath her long jacket.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming back here like this after what you've done." I let my anger drip into my voice - just enough to show that I was in control here. My voice had gotten me far in life - it was deep, powerful. "As you'll recall we parted on less than amicable terms."

"I'm hurt!" she put a hand to her heart. "I should hope that our relationship is stronger than such trifling setbacks."

"I don't know what games you think you're playing this time, Madeline, but you should be crawling to me on your hands and knees, begging for forgiveness! Not-" I shook my head, "Not whatever this is supposed to be." I stepped over to the phone on my desk, not letting my eyes off this woman for even a moment, and pressed one of the buttons. "I'll have security escort you a little more gently out of the building this time."

She laughed. I knew that laugh well. It was as fake and hollow as the rest of her. She wanted me to think that she knew something I didn't. She wanted to hold that over me, to use my curiosity as leverage to drag me into whatever crazy bullshit she had deluded herself with this time. It was her favorite gambit. But I wasn't playing.

"Aren't you the least bit ashamed?"

"Ashamed?" The fake smile fell away from her face. "You're one to talk." Her voice was hot and shaking. A rare glimpse of the real woman beneath. She turned back to the bookshelf of photographs and ran a finger along one of the frames. "After all you've done to these girls? After all you did to me? You're the one who should be ashamed." She looked around at the rich furnishings and sneered. "Is this really the life your depravity bought you?" she shook her head. "You don't know how good you have it, Mikio."

I rolled my eyes. "Your here to admonish me? Is that it? You know what they say about glass houses."

"Oh, no, Mik Mik. You've got it all wrong." She pulled her jacket open and let it fall seductively to the floor. "I'm here to do far worse than that."

"What are you-?" My eyes went wide. "Madeline!" I turned away, fists trembling.

She had always had an impressive body - nubile, vivacious. She had been blessed with wide hips and an especially long pair of legs. It was why we had hired her. Now though it was like her curves had been dialed up to eleven. I had to force myself not to take a closer look. How was she doing that? Shapewear? Prosthetics? Her boobs had never been that big.

And what the hell was she wearing? She had on a low cut white top that clung to the underside of her enormous - and evidently braless - tits. Below that, a high waisted green skirt ruffled and flared out in a way that - with the help of those stiletto heels - made her long bare legs looked like they went on forever. She looked some sort of slutty barbie doll.

"Like what you see?" she taunted.

"That's enough!" I slammed a fist down on my desk. "I'm tired of being part of your crazy mind games, Madeline! This is why I'm always stuck cleaning up your damn scandals! You're a self-entitled psychopath, and you're always pulling shit like this! It doesn't matter how attractive you are, you have a sick mind!"

"Aw, what's the matter, Mikio?" she cooed, "You don't think I'm pretty anymore? We used to be so close once." she picked the photo back up off the shelf. Me and her, back when we'd first met. We were both so full of hope then. It was hard to believe I had ever been so young. "Or do you only like them when they're still young and full of enthusiasm?" She threw it to the ground, frame shattering. her voice had an edge now, sharper than glass. "How many girls have you despoiled on this couch?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Mik Mik, we've all heard the rumors. How you've been testing the fresh talent."

"Get out!" Rage flashed across my face.

"Not until I have what I came for." She stepped forward, her high heel crunching on the broken glass. "Not until I've taught you a lesson."

"A lesson? That's rich coming from you. The only thing you have to teach is what to avoid. You're a cautionary tale. We're done here. I've already called security. If you don't get out of my office right this second, I'll call the police as well."

"No." she walked up, "I'm not going anywhere. All my life I've been powerless at the hands of men like you. Pushed around, told what to do, what to say! A little puppet forced to sell her body for the perverted leers of disgusting men!"

"You were a model, Madeline, not a porn star. You were hardly taken advantage of."

"A slim difference! You'd treat us all the same anyway. We're all just girls for you to take advantage of. Well not anymore!" She pulled a slim looking tv remote out from between her cleavage and clutched it to her chest. "Look around you, Mikio. You must feel so unassailable here. An office made of old wood." The edge of her lip rose. "It's so oppressively masculine, don't you think? Well don't worry, we can fix that."

"You've finally lost it, you know that?"

"No, for once in my life I've finally got it together." With a dramatic flourish she pointed the remote at me. "Today, I'm getting my revenge!"

She pressed one of the buttons. There was a sound like an electric buzzer, and then nothing.

"Is that it?" I raised an eyebrow as she grinned triumphantly.

There was a knock on the door. One of the security guards stepped in.

"About time." I sighed. "Max, could you please remove Miss Martin here from the premises? She's clearly had too much to drink."

The guard took a second to consider the request, a brief moment of confusion that let a furrowed brow break through otherwise professionally unreadable face. He turned and look expectantly at Madeline.

"Well?" I raised my voice, "What are you waiting for?"

"I don't think so, Mik Mik." Madeline walked over to my desk and sat on the edge. "Max, sweetheart, could you please restrain Mister Mizuguchi? I'm concerned he's about to try something foolish."

"What are you -?"

He gave a curt nod then took a step over to me. I barely had a chance to respond before he had my arms and shoulders in a lock.

"What are you doing?" I struggled in vain. I wasn't weak by any stretch of the imagination, but guys like Max worked security for a reason. "Let me go! You work for me!"

"I don't think so, Mik Mik." Madeline made a show of sitting down in my plush leather chair. "At least, not any more he doesn't. You see, the way I see it - and the way the rest of the world suddenly sees it - this is my office now. Always has been." She tapped the nameplate on my desk: Madeline Martin. "I'm a big-time producer. And you? Well, you're just another washed up idol."

"What kind of bullshit game are you playing at?"

"No games. Well. Not yet, anyway. Just revenge. My whole career you made me feel powerless. Weak. Vulnerable. You made me feel like the only way I could ever get ahead was to sell my body. Regardless of my mind. Well, now I have the power. Now you're going to see what it's like."

She pointed the device at me again and pressed a series of buttons. I flinched, but there was no blow. Just a sound like an arc of electricity blasting through my soul and a sudden wave of confused dizziness. I went limp. I'd have fallen were Max not there to hold me up. His grip seemed firmer now. Bigger.

My mind reeled through the fog. Had she just fucking tazed me? I tried to stand, to get back onto my feet, but it was like teetering on points. Every attempt to keep myself righted just sent me further off balance.

I made one last attempt to wretch myself free of Max's grip, to escape whatever Madeline had just done, but it was no use.

I tried to growl out, to scream "What did you do to me, you bitch?" but the voice that came out was a foreign breathy alto.

"Oh Mik Mik," I heard my voice say, "I told you I was going to put you in your place."

I looked up to see my own face staring back at me. Sheer animalistic panic consumed me. I thrashed as best I could against Max's firm embrace. This was no mirror. Standing behind the table was my own body, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

I looked down. Heavy, barely contained mounds of tit flesh obstructed my view of a taught stomach and the long smooth legs beyond. I screamed.

I was in Madeline's body. And she was in mine.

I rallied against my restraint with renewed vigor, existential desperation demanding I break free and do something. Anything! But I hadn't been able to resist Max's grip as a man, let alone now, no matter how hard I tried.

"Max?" came my voice from my lips from behind Madeline's smile. "Please escort Miss Mizuguchi out of the office. She's not welcome on the property any more. At least until she learns some respect."

"Yes, sir."

"And then afterwards please see me in my office. Have I ever told you Max," I heard her purr, "how much I admire your muscles?"

I screamed hoarse the last of my voice as I was dragged out of the office and down the stairs. The hot edge of my panic dulled though and my blithe bravado soon gave way to fear as I was brought before the rest of the security team. It occurred to me dimly that I had no recourse against these men.

For the first time in my life I felt helpless, weak. These men - these strong, tall, strapping men - could do whatever they wanted to me and I'd be helpless to stop them. The idea sent a shiver down my spine.

I chose not to resist.

I stumbled to stand straight in Madeline's 3-inch heels as I was ejected from the building. The evening air blew goosebumps along my exposed skin. I wrapped my arms around myself to help keep me warm, but flesh pressing on flesh just sent my tits jiggling.

Tits.

Oh my god. I had tits.

With a shaking hand I reached up and grabbed one. A gasp escaped my lips. They were big and they were heavy and they were - ah - so fucking sensitive. How did girls manage these?

The cold had set my nipples painfully stiff. Without thinking I slipped a hand under my top to massage one, my delicate ruby-tipped fingers groping, squeezing and rolling as my hand lifted and groped. I moaned softly at the gooey warmth washing through me. It was like removing stiff shoes after a long day and rubbing your feet. These were tits begging to be free, to be squeezed and fondled and massaged.

Fuck. I could feel myself getting wet at the attention. A simmering slickness between my legs. It took me a moment to process, then my face went flush as I realized what was really happening. What a uniquely lewd sensation. My breath was hot and ragged. My head swimming. I let out a whimpering sigh and wobbled over to lean against a nearby wall, the urgency of my task demanding my full mental bandwidth.

A cat call broke me out of my stupor. I looked up in surprise. A small crowd had gathered. Phones were out, filming.

Oh my god. I blushed and pulled my hands free of my top. Had I really just been doing that? Fondling my tits out in the open like some kind of desperate whore? I put a hand to my head. What the hell was wrong with me? But trying to think was like pushing through fog.

I had to get out of there. This wasn't a bad part of town, but it was getting late and the evening attracted all sorts.

I hunched my shoulders against the cold and the lurid stares of my gathered admirers. I shivered. All my life, I'd been taller than everybody around me. Now, even these strangers on the street seemed to loom over me, heels be damned. It brought up something animalistic in me, a heart pounding anxiety tickling at the back of my brain: the unshakable instinct that they were predators and that I was prey.

I made an uneasy step, my stiletto heel clicking against the pavement. I shifted my weight onto it and then took another. I was wobbling like a baby fawn, but after a few steps I was able to walk without breaking an ankle. I tried to pick up the pace but I found myself walking with this exaggerated feminine gait. One step in front of the other, my hips - my ass - swaying sexily behind me. A lump rose in my throat. Why was I walking like this? Was it the heels? Muscle memory? Where had I learned this?

I squeezed my eyes shut. I just had to get home. I just had to get somewhere safe. Then I could take stock. Then I could figure out this madness.

Home. I froze. Another shiver ran through me but this one had nothing to do with the cold. I couldn't remember where I lived.

My breathing grew tight. What kind of crazy bullshit was that? How could she have taken that from me? Where was I going to go? I had no family, no friends. The police? Who would believe me?

What had she done? It wasn't bad enough she had stolen my career and my body - she had apparently also fucked with my head as well?

I was cold and alone with no place to go and a gaggle of creeps hot on my trail. I swung my hips faster, but the perverts and their cameras out seemed so close behind. With the way Madeline had dressed - the way I was dressed - I was a meal for these creeps.

"Hey sweety, what's the rush?" A hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I pulled away, stumbling forward. Fight or flight flashed in my brain. I needed to get out of here now. I kicked off my heels and I started to run.

The cold concrete slapped against my bare feet, tits bouncing pendulously with every shaking step. They seemed to constantly pull me down and forward. This body was slow and awkward and even this short burst of speed seemed to knock the wind out of me. I clearly wasn't going to outrun them. I had to hide.