The Future of Travel

Author's Note: Hi, everyone. I have written a metric ton of stuff over the past few years and haven't submitted anything. Perhaps I fear people will think most of it is cheesy or unappealing, but I finally decided to just do it. So anyway, I have no idea if it's any good, but most of my stuff is light in nature, with themes influenced by the films of Russ Meyer, and strips like Little Annie Fanny. I think this first submission is one of my weakest, so I'd like to start here and get some feedback. Criticism is welcome. Hopefully, it can influence and improve the upcoming submissions I have planned (assuming folks are reading, I guess). Good news is, if you like my stuff, I have at least twenty more stories finished or very close to being finished.

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The Future of Travel

My name is Denise Smathers. At 27, I had become the youngest assistant executive at Drable, Young and Murray, a tax law firm in the heart of Los Angeles. At this rate, I'd be a partner by 35 if I played my cards right.

Drable, Young and Murray accepted me right after college, when I graduated in June of 2057. Though I had passed the bar, they had me working as a paralegal, essentially, filing papers, researching tax law, searching for tax loopholes for our clients. My eager drive, long hours and success at completing every task assigned, got me a desk and a chair where I worked all day signing on new clients.

Perhaps it was - as Jack Murray said - my attractive figure that aided in that particular role. I signed on more clients my first year than any other executive assistant in the history of the company. I was breaking many records.

I suppose I should tell you that I'm a heavy C-cup with a thin frame and tight butt. Daily Pilates has its benefits. Nevertheless, I didn't stay fit to draw the attention of men, necessarily. Growing up in a modest, almost puritanical, household had deeply embedded a code of modesty in me that was perhaps unusual for someone that could so easily be described as "hot." I'm not trying to sound like a narcissist, but men often made the comment to me, to which I often found off-putting and usually said prematurely in the relationship, almost always inappropriate. Sure, I had the occasional partner, though it had been over a year since the last, but I always struggled to feel comfortable naked around men, even long-term boyfriends.

That said, I certainly don't mind the attention of men, in a light-hearted, even flirtatious, kind of way. Thankfully, that's how most men are. Even women! So tight-fitting clothing is certainly in my catalog.

When I first began at DYM, word spread quickly of the young, attractive girl working in the back. Many men stopped by to greet me every day. Now, me being an executive assistant, my desk was closer to the front offices and could be seen more often by more people.

Within months, many new businesses had started coming to DYB to sign up as clients, asking for me personally. Again, the youngest partner in the firm, Jack Murray, claimed word had spread throughout some circles about the pretty girl working here and men came on board just to enjoy the view. I suppose he was probably right.

It was Jack who came knocking on my door this morning that led to the circumstances I was in now.

"Hey, Denise, do you mind joining us for the quarterly Executive Meeting?"

Those meetings were legendary. All the executives - there were seven now - met in the New York offices with all three partners. Frank Drable only came out of hiding when these meetings occurred. Oh, and of course for the annual Christmas party. On rare occasions, I would see Matthew Young, but he, too, worked in the New York office.

"Uh, sure... is this normal?" I asked.

"Actually, no. But Danny and Tom can't make it. They're working a big client in the Dominican Republic right now. We need you to cover for both of them. Anything that might be assigned to them, you'll have to cover. No worries, I told Sandra to reschedule your meetings for the two weeks. You'll have the normal workload in your regular duties."

Sandra was my secretary. Actually, she served as secretary to all the executive assistants. I reported under Danny normally, but I saw Tom and Andy on a regular basis, the other two executives in the office. They all reported on Jack, of course. There was a rigid hierarchy to Drable, Young and Murray.

"OK, I'll be happy to help," I said, hoping this would be one more task that would get me closer to faster promotions.

"We leave at 10," said Jack. "No need to bring anything."

All our files were of course on a secured cloud service. From any computer or terminal in the world, we could access them. I carried around a MiniHex, a small device you'd place on a desk and a holographic display appeared, voice activated and hand and eye responsive.

"OK," I said, knowing I'd at least bring that.

At 10 a.m. I met Jack at the front door.

"I'm glad the airport isn't far," I said. I figured we would be flying in a Jet300. They could make it from Los Angeles to New York in less than two hours.

"Oh, we're not flying," said Jack. "I thought you knew."

And my heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I knew all these meeting were in person, unrecorded and never via e-meetings. We would actually be present in front of each other. And if we weren't flying, that meant we were teleporting.

Teleportation had been a mainstream way of travel since 2042. It had as much a market share in long-distance travel as airplanes, but for a myriad of reasons, it never dissolved the flight industry. Sure, airlines essentially crafted all their planes to have first class amenities in order to compete, but that wasn't the only reason they managed to stay in business. Some people feared ill health effects from teleporting, even though those fears were unfounded. Yes, there were some unpleasant things about this form of travel. Two, notably.

The first one known as "the jitters" causes one's body to convulse uncontrollably for about six to eight seconds upon arrival at the destination (which is essentially the same moment as the time of departure). The convulsions aren't violent, by any measure. In fact, they are painless and proven to be completely harmless. Scientists have explained this phenomenon in layman's terms as a reaction to "purging" the air of the space one fills when teleporting. Honestly, it's all beyond my scope of understanding. I had never experienced it, anyway. My modesty has always kept me from teleporting.

You see, the second ill-effect is that teleporting only allows atoms that are coded to the traveler's DNA to pass through the teleportation pods. No way was I comfortable appearing stark naked on the other end of a trip. I was well aware there was always at least one member of the travel staff on the other watching over, ensuring things went smoothly. There actually hadn't been any "bad trips" since 2046, a far safer measure of travel than flying, to this day. But regulations were regulations and the thought of being naked in front of a stranger sent shivers down my spine.

"I thought we were flying," I said to Jack. "I've never teleported before." I was almost ashamed to admit it, as I'm sure Jack had done it hundreds of times.

"There's nothing to it, Denise, I assure you. We use our private pods that take us straight to the meeting room in New York."

I realized now just how wealthy DYM really was. Private teleportation devices were rigidly regulated and very expensive to license. To have not one, but two, seemed grossly wasteful in spending. Nevertheless, the thought that I would pop over in a private room was relief to my anxiety.

Jack nodded. "You're going to be fine, I promise. Let's go."

Jack turned and walked back to the east-end offices, where his was located. We walked down the wide hall and two doors past his main office. He opened the door and inside was two clear pods labels VentureTech. I knew of the company well.

"Just step right on that pod," Jack said, pointing to the one on the right.

"Uh, I thought clothes and objects couldn't go through."

"They can't," said Jack. "Whatever you're wearing will simply fall to the floor. We'll have something for you on the other side."

Again, I was greatly relieved to know I wouldn't be in an awkward position with Jack, with him expecting me to strip in front of him. I stepped over to the pod and positioned myself in the center. No door closed; it was simply encompassed by clear plexiglass, encircling the back half of the pod that I stood on. The glass was more for aesthetics than necessity.

Jack stood on his pod and waved up a holo-display that was operated from within the pod. He checked to ensure to foreign objects were on the receiving end of our pods and said, "Get ready for your first time, Denise. This ought to be fun for you!"

I giggled and a moment later I found myself shivering uncontrollably. Not like a cold shiver, though, I was unable to even move my hands, which I desperately wanted to do, since my tits were fully exposed to four strangers. I immediately had the instinct to cover them, but couldn't control my body to do so. My arms and hands simply did not respond to my brain and they continued to hang at my side, quivering rapidly along with the rest of my body.

I noticed we were indeed in the meeting room, not a private room like I had expected to be jumped to, the impression I had been given from Jack. To the right of me, from the corner of my eye, I could see Jack's body, also shaking like mine. Four men were in the room facing our direction. I wondered if my large, puffy nipples had gotten hard from all the shaking, but I was unable to lower my chin to get a clear look.

To my horror, it seemed like hours, yet only lasted a few seconds. All the men in the room were now focusing their attention fully on me, watching my jiggling breasts react to the trip. The moment it stopped, I immediately covered my privates as best I could. I noticed Jack did the same.

"Ah, Jack, good to see you," said the oldest man in the group. I knew his features. It was Frank Drable. Tall, yet stocky, he had a domineering appearance. He rushed over to Jack extending his right hand. Jack, covering his manhood with his left hand, shook the CEO's with his right.

"And this must be the girl we've all been hearing about! Denise, right?" Mr. Drable stepped over to me, also extending his hand. Not knowing what else to do, I quickly reached out and shook it, knowing my right breast popped into view for all to see.

"Uh... hi," I said.

Frank lifted his chin, as if talking to the ceiling, and said, "Betty, could you bring Jack and Denise some clothes, please."

I was mortified. Not even a robe was immediately available? It was then I noticed the back wall was actually just one large mirror, to give the illusion the room was even larger than it was. By no means was the room small in the first place, but with the mirror, I realized everyone could see my ass. I instinctively moved my left hand to cover it, forgetting for only a second that my bare pussy was now on full display. I threw my hand back to its original position.

Another man stepped forward and tried to put me at ease. "Denise, I'm Morgan Grimes. Relax. We all have to shoot through those damn things. We've become accustomed."

I didn't know how to respond, but Frank agreed. "Yes Miss Smathers. I assure you we all are professional here."

I tried to smile, but it came out more like a nervous laugh. I knew I must have looked silly trying to squeeze my breasts behind my thin right arm and hand. My nipples were kind of large, so I was sure they escaped into view plenty while I stood there so imposed.

"Oh, hello, Jack, great to see you!" A young, attractive woman entered the room, bringing with her a neatly piled set of men's clothes. I saw nothing in her hands for me. I was shivering again, this time from anticipation and nervousness.

The woman looked over at me. "Hi, I'm Betty. I'm sorry, I didn't know a woman was coming today. I would have gotten your figures ahead of time. I could bring you a towel until we can arrange something."

"Oh, please, please," I said.

"Perhaps you would like to come with me?" asked Betty.

"Don't be silly, Betty!" boomed Frank. "We have pressing business at hand. Hurry up and fetch her a towel and then find her some clothes."

Betty began to scoot out of the room when she turned. "Denise, would you like to wear mine for now? I can send Allison to the store for me and use the towel in your place." Betty was obviously observant to my modesty, yet I didn't know how to take the question. She wanted me to wear what she was wearing?

"Just the blouse and skirt, dear," said Betty. She must have caught my confusion, as well. Very observant. "I can keep the bra and panties."

I still didn't quite know what to say, when Frank spoke up. "Well, get on with it, then!"

Betty quickly unsnapped her blouse and unhooked her skirt, removing them almost simultaneously. She walked over and handed them to me. Her breasts were every bit as full as mine, her hips almost as narrow, and I envied how she carried herself so confidently.

I quickly grabbed the attire from her and slipped into them as hurriedly as I could. I had turned away from the gawking men, but I knew the mirror showed off all my tits bobbling about in the process. I tried not to think about it too much.

Finally, I turned and smiled. "So happy to be here," I said to everyone.

Minutes later, everyone had introduced themselves and we managed to find our seats at the long, meeting table. I sat next to Jack, even though I probably should have sat at the end of the table. No one seemed to mind. Hexes were installed on every seat. I logged in and tried to focus on the meeting.

But that was kind of difficult, too. With no bra, the impressions of my breasts through the thin fabric of the white blouse were noticeable. I caught all the men's eyes, even Frank's, wander over to catch a glimpse of my chest on too-regular occurrences. I started to feel like an object and that no one was paying attention to the meeting.

Mr. Drable's third point of motion was about Leviticus Enterprises, a clothing manufacturer that made items for many name brands. I knew it well, actually, as I had discovered a few tax write-offs last year for them. As Frank went through the list, I realized he had not mentioned the one I'd found regarding their retirement packages for their middle managers. That was worth over six million in tax credits and I brought it up.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Drable. "You're saying you mentioned this to Jack last year?"

"Well, it was Danny, actually."

"First I've heard of it," said Jack.

Frank leaned back in his chair and scoffed, shaking his head. "I swear, that's over half a million lost to neglect. Jack, I want to speak with you after the meeting about Danny. We need a conversation."

"Yes, sir," said Jack. His voice was flat, but firm.

"Denise, why don't you explain all this to us now," said Mr. Drable. "Maybe there's a reason Danny never brought it up."

I rattled off all the information I could remember and soon found myself in my zone. I explained how moving the retirement plans to multiple portfolios would allow us to cap plans at maximum tax advantages. Considering the bulk of their numbers, it would lead to a healthy savings. As I spouted off everything, I realized my breasts had been bouncing heavily with my enthusiasm. For a brief second, I realized how embarrassing that was, but somehow reason got hold of me. These men weren't just happy I had brought the best news to the meeting so far, they were also ecstatic about how it was being presented. A large dose of youthful, full breasts was on the menu. I decided to just let it go. Behave like Betty, I told myself. She was assertive and confident.

I tilted back in the chair once I was finished talking and took a deep breath, my breasts easily able to be made out in the blouse. And just then, Betty strolled in. She had on another blouse and skirt, a beige and black collage and carried with her a bras and panties.

"You looked about my size, so I just went with that," said Betty, walking around the table to hand them to me.

"Oh, thank you," I said. At this point, I was getting accustomed to this rather strange series of events, but the men in the room did act professionally, even if they couldn't help peeking my way now and then.

"Betty, you won't believe what Denise just announced. You can thank her this year for your Christmas bonus."

"Is that right?" said Betty. "Well, I am so glad we finally got a woman in here. I kept telling Mr. Drable he would be pleased if he did."

Frank laughed and said, "Betty's worked as my personal assistant for nine years now. If she were an attorney, I'd have made her partner by now."

I couldn't imagine Betty being older than 30 though. She definitely had a young, spunky attitude.

"Besides," said Betty. "I'm tired of seeing all these guys' wieners every time they shoot through those damn things," laughed Betty, nodding at the teleportation pods behind us.

I managed a laugh, too, and knew she was only teasing.

"Alright, Betty, you better go. Bring us some more coffee, would you? We have another hour in here, I bet."

"Where can I go put this on?" I asked Betty, standing up to follow her out the door.

"You can use my office," she said. "Hah! You're lucky the boys didn't make you do your first meeting in the buff!"

I gasped. "What?" I explained, looking back at Jack and Frank.

"Oh, it's just a joke they do," said Jack. "Whenever someone makes a trip for the first time, we never give them any clothes. It's like an initiation."

"Yes," said Frank. "All in good fun. You see, the first time we used those things.. oh, who was it.. you and Andy and Markus, back when he was with us, right?"

"That's right," said Jack, back to Mr. Drable.

"Well, we hadn't even anticipated having clothes available. Frankly, we were just excited to try out our new toys," he laughed. The other men in the room snickered along.

"So anyway, these three guys...," Frank pointed at Jack, "did the whole meeting in the buff for that first time."

"It was actually very funny," said Jack. "And we were having such a record year, I think we were all a bit high on ourselves. Anyway, since then, the first jump for all new staff members attend the meeting naked. But before now, it has always been men."

"That sounds rather unprofessional," I said.

"Hah! Yes, it probably is!" bellowed Frank. "Perhaps we should stop punishing the poor sods!"

I got that they were indeed just a group of fraternity brothers, essentially, and I supposed the "initiations" were all in good fun. I swooped off after Betty.

"Thank god I don't have to do that!" I said, once we were in her office.

"Oh, honey, you have nothing to be ashamed about."

I blushed. "Thank you."

"They would never make you do it, anyway," said Betty. "Honestly, these are the most professional men I have ever worked with. Totally top drawer and very ethical."

"That's good to know," I said, but I already knew it. I was impressed how well DYM played by the rules. We may have employed the law to our favor, but we never bent it.

I disrobed in front of Betty and she whistled. "Wow, girl, you really do have it going on."

I giggled again. "Yeah, but I am a bit shy."

"I can tell. You shouldn't be." I began putting on the panties when she continued, "You ought to do it."

"Do what?"

"Finish that meeting naked. You have no idea how much it will help your reputation."

"Oh, I couldn't! And besides, I'm the only woman in the group. I don't want to be viewed as just an object!"

"That's not what I mean at all. Just, you know, to prove that you're willing to walk the same path they do."