Roger had heard of this, but he'd never experienced it before. It was the magic. Once it was active, it was almost alive, thriving on completing its purpose, resisting anything that could stop it. His predecessor had warned Roger about it, telling him to be sure before he cast a spell, that it was very difficult to stop once it had begun.
Difficult was an understatement.
Ashley had been right. David Howard was very angry about his commission. It had been a simple mistake, one easily remedied by a few keystrokes, but Roger had to calm the salesman down before he could hang up the phone. Once that was done, Roger was once again on his feet, only to trip on his shoelaces, which had become untied, and dropped his wand, which slid under his desk.
On his hands and knees he retrieved the talisman, tied his shoes, then steadied himself for whatever was to come next.
Outside of his office, Roger kept his head down and marched straight for the stairs, knowing that the elevator would still be broken. He heard three people call his name, but ignored them. This situation was urgent, and needed his attention far more than anything they could want.
He slammed into the crashbar and into the stairwell, satisfied to be finally moving downstairs. Only three flights to go until he could help whoever had activated the spell. One flight down, though, the door opened and out spilled two amazingly beautiful women, locked in the throws of passion. Roger paused, distracted from his duty, and took in the sight. He remembered hiring the two secretaries. One had been a down-on-her-luck young twenty year old woman looking for an internship, another had been an overweight grandmother with plenty of experience, but lacked any sense of style. The magical conversion had, of course, worked perfectly on the two. Reality had been adjusted, as had their bodies.
The former aspiring intern was now a thirty-nine year-old red-head mother of two, with large breasts, low-cut tops, and a habit of showing off her rear end by dropping her pens whenever she could. The grandmother was now a blonde thirty-five year old mother of one, who loved to show her appreciation, as Roger had learned early on after her conversion, with a tongue that should qualify as an Olympic athlete. He watched as they wrapped their arms around each other, lips pressed, moaning, oblivious to his presence. He never knew that the two had a tendency toward lesbianism, but it wasn't a huge surprise. Things around Yothers and Mawnk got heated frequently, and the sexual tension had to be relieved somehow or other.
Then, as if a light went off in his head, Roger remembered his task. He took a step forward to sneak past the ladies when they suddenly stopped and looked straight at him.
"Ooooh! Mr. Hartford!" the blonde cooed, "I didn't know you liked to watch!"
"Maybe he doesn't," the red-head giggled, "Maybe he's just waiting for his turn."
Roger felt his penis twitch, but forced the lustful thoughts from his mind. He had a job to do. Someone was in peril of fulfilling a spell that didn't belong to them!
"Maybe we can give the give the Head of Personnel some personal head," the blonde said, swaying toward Roger, her body moving hypnotically.
"Save some for me," said the read-head.
Greg stared at his reflection in the compact as he touched up his cherry red lipstick. Something seemed wrong with his reflection, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Was it his long, auburn locks? No, he'd been growing those out for years. Was it his puffy lips? No, those were the lips his mother had given him. Whatever it was, it was frustrating him enough to make him pout, which was, he had to admit, a good look for him.
Amanda and Jennifer were great, as always. He had the best co-workers. Each one had been asking if he was alright, if there was anything he could do. Not wanting to embarrass himself, Greg just told them he felt bloated, which they smiled at and returned to their duties. It was a plausible answer. Boys like him took such good care of their bodies that eating just a little bit of the wrong thing could set off the whole balance.
He angled the mirror downward and took in the body he was so proud of. Large breasts, barely contained in the low-cut blue blouse, atop a tiny waist. His large rear end was held in by a black skirt, showing off his amazing hourglass figure. Sure, he was short, but his legs still looked long, and he loved the feel of his stockings so much that he softly rubbed his calfs together. Yes sir, Greg was a sexy twenty-nine year old boy alright. He should be, with all the work he'd put into it.
Hours at the gym. Diets. Endlessly studying on style, make-up. Even flirting. How many nights had he sat in bars practicing flirting, seducing, even taking men home, just to prepare him for the day he would end up working somewhere awesome like Yothers and Mawnk. He couldn't wait to finally put his efforts to good use!
His zipper down, belt undone, penis erect, Roger pried himself away from the seductresses and sprinted down the final flights of stairs toward the main floor. He had wasted so much time, he could only image the damage that had been done to the poor victim of the spell. Throwing himself through the door, he found himself staring at the reception desk where three amazingly beautiful women sat, cheerfully answering phones. He knew the two on sitting on the sides, but the one in the middle...
"Travula-throto!" he shouted as he aimed the wand at the newcomer. There was a flash of light and...
