If you like my art, sketches, stories, transformations you can find more like this on my Patreon page or in DeviatArt Premium Early Access folder for subscribers here. Every bit of support is truly appreciated, but just having you here means the most to me - without you, none of this would have been possible. Thank you very much!
Check also my shop at DeviantArt for other works
— What?! What the hell, Mike?! — George shouted, this time even louder, so loud that Mike flinched, jerked his hand up as if shielding himself, and stared at the monitor where the follower count kept climbing like nothing was happening.
— Calm down, you drama queen… — slipped out of him, and he instantly cut himself off, grimacing. — Shit. I mean, that’s not what I meant. Just, seriously, why are you yelling like that?
— A drama queen? — George slowly turned her head toward him, feeling her long hair slide over her bare shoulders in an unfamiliar way, almost mocking her. — Seriously?
George’s hand, the one holding the mouse, accidentally clicked, and the penthouse room on the thirty-sixth floor above the noisy city center was instantly filled with the sharp jingle from an ad — followed by George’s own sultry voice:
'Ooh yes… like that… deeper, baby… make me your bitch… yeah… yeah…'
— FUCK! — whipping her face toward the monitor, George lunged forward and frantically began clicking the mouse, trying to stop it, but instead the browser started opening other tabs with adult sites, landing on pages with hot photoshoots of the very same woman moaning from the speakers — the one anyone could find by typing the simple search term “Nympho Joe”.
— Shut up already! — she practically snapped the mouse in half, clicking harder and harder, feeling her breasts bounce strangely, tugging at the straps of her bra. — God, please!!!
— Stop, stop, — Mike finally pulled her aside, taking the mouse out of her hand. — George… For fuck’s sake, and after all this you’re telling me not to call you a drama queen?
The sounds stopped, the tabs were closed, and the room fell into silence, broken only by George’s heavy breathing. Her eyes were closed, and she kept leaning on the desk with both hands. Her arms were shaking as if she’d just spent an hour with a jackhammer. Mike’s shirt stretched tight across her back as her shoulder blades twitched with tension. Her long blond hair hung forward, covering half of her face, a few strands sticking to her sweat-damp cheek.
Mike leaned back in his chair, looking up at her from below.
— George… — he began quietly. — Are you… okay?
She didn’t answer right away. She only exhaled slowly through her nose, as if trying to force the whole nightmare out of herself in one push.
— Okay? — she finally repeated, her voice hoarse, almost foreign even to her own ears. — I have tits, a vagina, and online I’m known as Nympho Joe. And you know what else… — she faltered, swallowed hard, — I remember saying those lines for that fucking ad! I even remember how…
She clenched her teeth, straightening sharply, and of course her shirt chose that exact moment to stretch tightly over the small breasts she hated more than ever, outlining her hard nipples. George tugged the fabric down irritably, which made her tits bounce — immediately making her regret it and snort.