Just a day prior Jon had been a straight A student in his senior year of high school. Now he was a busty intern just there to be pretty. When he stepped into the elevator at his workplace, he encountered the next problem.
It was a struggle balancing the cardboard drinks carrier and trying to tap his badge to get the elevator to work, especially with his jiggling tits in the way — he couldn’t even see his shoes anymore. Only after a minute of trying did he realize there was a note on the reader that said “Deactivated, use other side”. There was an identical reader on the other side of the elevator with a red glowing light. He tapped his badge and the buttons all lit up.
A man ran into the elevator as the doors closed. His eyes ran up and down Jon's body, making him shiver.
“Floor 36,” he said. Jon pressed it and no others. It was also where he was going.
“Oh you’re the new intern,” the man said. Jon didn’t say anything. He just blushed cutely and shifted the drinks carrier, causing his nipples, hard from the cold outside to jiggle against his thin silk blouse.
He shifted closer, his eyes looking down; he was taller than Jon, and Jon almost wished he was wearing heels. He was looking at Jon’s breasts, how they were straining against their buttons. After several long seconds his eyes shifted to Jon's name tag. Jon pressed his thighs together in an attempt to suppress the feeling between his legs.
“Jules, is it?”
Jon nodded, his long, brown, silky hair tickling his blushing cheeks. He tucked it behind his ear.
“It’s been hard to get pretty faces like yours here ever since the controversy,” he said. He sidled closer, his arm pressing against Jon’s slim shoulders. It was a large elevator, but the man was close. An excited buzzing was building in Jon’s body, familiar and yet foreign and he had to keep himself from leaning in after catching the oaky smell of his cologne.
The man reached around, pulling Jon closer, it jostled the drinks carrier against his sensitive nipples, eliciting an eeep.
His hand drifted lower, cupping Jon’s ass.
“Stop—” Jon’s voice was cut off as the man — he still didn’t know his name — grasped his cheek through the pencil skirt.
“Sorry, Miss Jules, I didn’t catch that.”
Something about him not even referring to him by his last name made it all the worse. The combination of sensations had Jon swaying on his feet and his eyes almost rolling back in his head. If he was still grabbing his plump ass he probably would have fallen. He felt the drinks carrier slipping and tightened his grip, his long polished nails digging into the cardboard. God he had wished for this and it felt so good but his ego told him how wrong it was. That he shouldn't be this shivering bimbo.
“Are you alright Miss Jules,” he asked and a pulse of enticing pleasure struck into the heat of Jon’s groin like a lightning bolt.
“I– I… I said stop,” he ground out.
“Ahhh but do you really mean it? I can tell you’re one of the slutty ones. I can see quite clearly that you do want this,” the man purred and Jon barely kept the last scrap of his sanity.
“I said stop,” Jon said with as much authority as his high feminine voice could command.
The man stepped away quickly, hands coming up in surrender. The loss of heat hurt in all the wrong ways and Jon nearly toppled to the floor with the loss of support and the weakness in his legs.
The elevator dinged and the door opened at floor 36.
“Well I am sure I will see you around Miss Jules. Mr. Johnson, good to meet you. And when you reconsider, I am in the north-west corner office. The one with the blackout blinds.”
And with that, Mr. Johnson was gone and Jon was standing there, drinks carrier pushing into his large sensitive breasts, thick thighs shaking in his pencil skirt, not quite sure if he had made a mistake with his wish.
