Supposed to Be Classy

When Rob convinced me of this, it was supposed to be well, classier. Fancy dress really, just a sort of costume. Make a good impression on the coworkers, showing off a bit. I had the neural implants to load up required software and Rob had the means to get me a great reshaping. Great and supposedly reversible.

Of course, I never should have let Rob do a final look over of the program. I’d put in all of the muscle memory and skills to be a beautiful, sophisticated companion to a professional. He deployed a suite of bedroom skills and enough psyche backdoors to make me a stranger in my own mind.

After an evening of hanging on to him and making it very clear to all his coworkers how much I loved his cock, we were alone and I couldn’t even be livid with him. Not properly. My anger gave way to lust and soon I was posing for him as his classy slut. Every time he calls me that I shudder and do a bit more of a strip tease.


Leave a Reply