Data Entry

Karen blinked. Why was she here? She shook her head. It was her first day at Mental Systems Limited as a data processor. She adjusted her weight on the office chair, her long red hair falling over her shoulders. She was a woman of average height with a soft, curvy body that just begged to be...

She stopped. Why had her mind wandered from her job to her body? And how people reacted to it? She frowned. She didn't normally think about how trim she kept herself, and she didn't get horny thinking about it. But here she was.

She decided to instead focus on her work. She remembered something about the company saying they had a somewhat obtuse system and she'd also need to sign in to the company's internal web site.

She got up to stretch, and noticed an odd feeling. Her breasts were bare and they were rubbing up against her silk blouse. But she had specifically remembered putting a bra on that morning. She'd specifically chosen a white sports bra so it couldn't be seen through her blouse. She touched one of her breasts and groaned. Shaking her head, she stood up, walked over to the desk, making sure to step over her mattress, and turned on her laptop. She logged on to the company website. Then she paused again.

She was definitely logged in, but for the life of her, she could not remember what she had typed in. That was disturbing. But she had training videos to watch. Somewhat thankful for the door to her cubicle, she went back to watching the training videos.

It was three days later, and Karen had just finished her first week at MSL. Her supervisor, a man only a little older than her, and the HR rep for the section, a woman with severe, but somehow also mischievous air, had called her in to a conference room and told her that her attire "wasn't professional enough." Simultaneously, she was also "too stiff and formal for the corporate culture." They then told her an address where she could obtain what they called a "starter uniform."

As Karen punched in the address, she suddenly realized that, even though she knew she'd entered it correctly into the GPS, she didn't know it. She tried to focus in on what she had typed, but the symbols that she had entered warped and danced in front of her eyes. All she knew was that she'd entered the right thing and that the GPS was taking her where she needed to go.

Disturbed by this, she drove to the store. It was close by to the office, but going those few blocks was enough to move out of the affluent area full of tech and financial jobs and into a seedy area. Something about the building seemed strange to Karen. She looked at it for a while. Everything seemed to be in order. Blacked out windows, pink neon sign with suggestive image of a woman, a door that looked like it opened into a speakeasy... all in all, a standard office supply store for her kind of profession. So why did this feel so wrong?

For a brief moment, Karen had a strange sensation that this wasn't how an office supply store should look. Nervously sucking her thumb, she tried to think about why she'd think that. Then she looked at the time. She groaned. "Gotta get this done," she grumbled, "they're probably going to close soon."

She hurried towards the imposing door and hurried into the shop. She looked over the merchandise, trying to find an employee, and wondering why the various clothes, equipment, and instructional material was making her horny. Quickly, she saw the cash register and the burly man with shaved head and tank top standing behind it.

"Hi!" she said, walking up to the man, hand outstretched for him to shake. "I'm Karen Barnes. I work at MSL. They said I could get a uniform here?"

The man looked up. "Christy?" he asked. "Yeah, they said you'd be coming."

"Karen," Karen corrected him.

"Sorry," he said, "you just look like a Kristy to me. Mental Systems send over a lot of people here and it gets hard to keep you all straight. Let's see, 006904302-DP0 is your employee ID?" He held grasped her hand tightly. "I'm Tim. My organization isn't fancy enough to give me an ID like that." He smiled in an aw-shucks kind of manner at that last part.

"Yep," Karen said with a nod, "that's my ID." Then she added ruefully as they unclasped hands, "and that's tech companies for you."

Tim nodded. "So I've heard." He gave her a once-over. "Uh..." he began diplomatically, "but I think there's a reason you've got a zero after that DP. Your dress is a little... unprofessional."

"Yeah," Karen said with a scoff. "And they didn't tell me why."

Tim's eyes widened. "Oh. Wow. Uh, you see those video booths?" he said pointing at the rear wall.

"Yeah?" Karen asked. "What does that-"

"If you really don't know why," Tim said, "go down to Booth Two and select Secretaries and Other Office Jobs. Make sure to use headphones."

Karen blinked. Secretaries and Other Office Jobs had just finished. She briefly wondered where the time between being ordered to watch the video and her completing it had gone. But she had learned a lot.

She stood up and looked at the mirror opposite the worn velvet curtain out of the video booth. First off, her hair wasn't long enough. She needed to let it grow as it was barely past her shoulders. She also needed makeup. Right now, she didn't even have lipstick. Yes, there was such a thing as too much, but she needed at least some lipstick, preferably in a dark color. She needed to go light goth, or she'd be sent home next time she came into work.

Then there was her skirt. She sighed. At least she was wearing one and it was above the knee. She forced her arms so that they were parallel to her legs. The skirt's hem ended below her fingertips. That was way too long. Also, her shoes didn't have a heel on them and her legs, while shaven, were bare. That was fine, but some some nice nylons or stockings would be more professional.

Her blouse, meanwhile... she considered it for a while. She'd have to get a corset to wear under it instead of the plain, highly unprofessional cotton bra. The corset would have to be open-cup and the blouse would have to be very tight and thin to have her nipples show when aroused. And she wanted that, she desperately wanted to be professional.

She frowned. Something seemed wrong about that thought. She considered it. The more she thought about it, the more confused she felt. Feeling dizzy, she sat on the seat and began to play the video again. Maybe, she thought, watching the video will help clear this up.

Karen gasped, her orgasm hitting just as the credits began to roll. She blinked rapidly, unsure where she was. Then she realized that her skirt was hiked up to her waist and her hand was buried in her vagina, pushing aside her panties.

Her face burned with shame. She didn't understand why. She had just been reinforcing the lesson by associating it with pleasure. Surely, this wasn't much different than taking notes at a meeting?

She shook her head to clear it as she got up. Tim would need to close soon and she needed to buy her clothes.

She shuddered as she pulled her soaking wet panties off and threw them in a nearby trashcan. God, she thought, how the hell was I so unprofessional to wear panties? I'm a data processor! There was a brief bit of confusion as for some reason something didn't seem right, then she staggered out of the dressing room.

"H-hi, Tim," she said, trying to get her breath, "I-I think I," she paused, taking a huge breath, "have a good idea of what I need." She then saw that Tim was on the phone. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"No, no!" Tim said. "It's completely fine." Then he muttered into the phone, "The client needs help choosing the outfit so I have to go."

"No, no!" Karen said. "You talk to-to whoever it is and I'll get the clothes!"

"We were just about done anyway," Tim said, hanging up the phone. "If you want to buy clothes for work, I'd recommend the 'High Use' section in the clothing area. We've got, uh, office equipment over there and uh, instructional videos are over there."

Tim then led Karen around the shop to help her get everything she needed. She ended up getting seven easily-washed, extremely short latex skirts in regulation black and stretchy white shirts. In the same section, she also bought a few corsets. The stockings were spread out between that section and a more expensive one as she decided she wanted some latex stockings and some silk. They were either black or white, but they all had garters that would attach to her corset and all would somehow disappear into her skirts. For shoes, she had one knee high pair and one pair that would only leave a small strip of her stockings visible. Both had six inch heels and locks. She'd never worn even half-inch heels before. To finish off her work ensemble, she bought several opera gloves, some in black latex, others in white latex.

"Do you have any changing rooms?" Karen asked, when she had a handful of clothes.

"Over there, Christy," Tim said.

Karen almost ran to the changing room. The thought of wearing clothes this unprofessional for longer then she had to filled her with disgust. When she was in the room, she ripped off her old, inappropriate clothes. Then she lovingly began putting on her new outfit.

When she finished and looked at herself in the mirror, a wave of dissonance washed over her. She felt pride that she had finally become so professional, yet there was something else.

She stared hard. Yes, the stretchy material her shirt was made out of was tight, but the cleavage it exposed was not enough. The problem, though, wasn't the shirt. Her tits needed to go up at least a size for the right effect. She turned around and sighed. Her ass was also a bit too flat (even with the knee-length boots with the six-inch heels forcing it out) and she needed to work on tightening the corset. But something else was wrong. Something that should be obvious, but kept dancing out of her reach.

However, there were positive feelings as well. She smiled. She could just imagine herself bent over her supervisor's desk while he fucked her, or sticking her head up the HR woman's skirt to lick her out. She squirmed at the image, especially when she realized that the other could watch.

Then she realized that she could do something to test out how slutty and professional she was. She lay down on the bench, looking over her shoulder at the mirror, hiked up the latex skirt, and shoved her fingers up her snatch.

As she rubbed, she pretended it was her supervisor fucking her over his desk. She supposed the black latex of her glove even felt like a condom, but she hoped that he'd jam his dick into her and use her like the whore she felt like now. "Yes sir," she murmured as her two fingers pumped in and out. "Yes sir, oh yes sir! Keep it up. I need to cum. I need to cum." Her vocalizations rapidly became less and less coherent as she neared climax.

Finally, she came, her juices squirting past her fingers just as a massive groan dragged across her throat. She lay there, feeling raw yet satisfied. There was a knock on the door.

"Christy?" Tim called from the other side.

"Yes?" Karen said, feeling ragged.

"I hope what you're wearing fits, because you will be taking it home with you."