Mrs Hoffman
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Laid Off free porn video
Laid Off
By Bill Hart
"Goddamn sorry fuckups," I heard the tall dark-haired man with the
salt-and-pepper beard grumble loudly as he entered the bar and stomped
straight to bar. After sitting down, he ordered gruffly, "Whiskey
straight up, barkeep. And leave the fucking bottle here."
Without saying a word to the loudmouthed man, the bartender poured his
ordered drink and set down the glass and the bottle in front of him.
After gulping it down, the man snatched up the bottle and poured
himself another, even larger, serving before once again downing its
contents in one gulp.
Even I could tell that something was seriously bothering this man, who
I figured could be no more than a couple of years older than me. To
me, it made perfect sense to leave this poor man to his miseries,
whatever they were. I couldn't see how me being a nosey buttinsky
could make his life any less miserable. And it probably wouldn't do
me a world of good either. More often than not, I avoided guys in
bars wearing blue jeans with a simple colored T-shirt, especially in
those bars I'd never been in before. Besides, the way he kept tossing
down that whiskey as if there were no tomorrow couldn't be overly
conducive for the retention of his consciousness.
But the bartender apparently had other ideas about leaving the poor
man to himself and his miseries.
Bartenders always had other ideas.
"Bad day, Mac?" asked the bartender.
"I've just had the worst fucking day of my life."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No!" came the curt reply. "Leave me alone!"
"Are you sure? I've often found that talking about things tends to
make one feel better."
The man poured himself another drink. "I really doubt that." And,
having said his piece, he once again lifted the glass and finished
it off in a single swallow.
"But that's one of the more interesting reasons we bartenders have for
existing, Mac. We're real good listeners. We're here to listen to
all the troubles of the world. And then - after we've thoughtfully
listened - we give out our advice - totally free of charge."
The man poured another drink. In another gulp, it too was gone. "I
don't know why you're so interested in my life. But since you are,
I think I'll tell you."
"I certainly can't ask any more from you than that, Mac."
I really didn't want to listen to either of them; I had my own
problems to deal with. But the man was so loud that even if I'd had
earplugs I would have still heard his every word as clearly as if
he'd been sitting beside me.
"Now just you remember, you asked for this," snarled the man. "If
this bores you to death, it ain't my fault. Today, those damn
bastards laid me off from the job I've had for over thirty years.
If that wasn't bad enough, I was given no explanation - they said
they didn't need to tell me anything. And on top of that the package
they put together was so poor it might have been better if those
fuckers had just cut my throat.
"How could this have happened to me I keep asking myself. But I
don't get any answers. The only thing that constantly comes to mind
is the new boss - a pimple-popping, snot-faced, butt-licking,
shit-eating, whiney little bastard who couldn't tell the pointy end
of a knitting needle from its head even if it was embedded two inches
deep in his arm. The dickwad thinks you can replace people with
years of experience with people having a mere piece of paper."
"Doesn't sound like you like this fella much, Mac."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" snapped the man.
"Just call it a hunch," smiled bartender. "I'm real good at making
hunches."
Another man came over from the far side of the bar and sat down at
the counter on the stool beside the loud man. He seemed an odd
looking man to me, but just how odd or even why I thought him so
was something I couldn't say.
"It sounds to me like you've been rode hard and put away dripping
wet, Bub," said the odd man to man beside him.
"They hired that pimply-faced little weasel about a month ago." The
man stopped for a moment to pour himself another drink. "The word is
he's always enjoyed fucking over the people working for him. Ask
anyone whose ever worked for him; they'll all tell you pretty much
the same thing - he gets off screwing people." The man chugged his
drink. "All the guys over him care about is he gets things done
cheaply - the bottom line, not people, is his only concern." He
poured himself another drink, emptying the bottle, then threw the
contents of the glass down his throat even faster then any of the
others.
"He sounds like a man I'd enjoy avoiding," agreed the odd man. "I've
always hated those guys who step on people like that." The man gave
his neighbor a peculiar smile. "But you know, Mac, I've just been
thinking. I just might have a job to offer you - that is, if you're
interested in working."
"You know, mister, you're all right." His voice had started to slur.
"I'm just sorry I can't offer you a drink. But I'm afraid I'm all
out of whiskey."
"That's not a problem here." The odd man turned to the bartender.
"How about another bottle for my new friend, Jack." Both he and the
odd man began smiling. "And why don't you fix it with some of my
extra special blend in honor of my new employee."
"Whatever you say, sir," replied the bartender. "After all, this is
your place, sir. And, if I may say so, he does seem eminently
qualified for a position here."
"You own this bar?" asked the loud man.
"I own the bar," smiled the odd man, "as well as the large house right
next door."
"But what kind of job can I possibly do for you?" he asked, as Jack
the bartender set down a new glass in front of him.
"I think you'd be very surprised." The bar's owner watched closely
as the man gulped his free drink down just as he had all the others.
"But I don't know anything about working in a bar. I mean, I can't
even fix a drink fancier than straight up?" The bartender removed the
emptied glass and set another full one down in its place.
"Fixing drinks isn't very important for what I have in mind," replied
the odd man with a smile. "You really won't need to work in the bar
very often - just every now and again, if necessary. Most of the
work you'll be doing will actually be done next door. It's actually
fairly easy work, but somebody's got to do it." His smile widened
further when the latest proffered libation was again greedily imbibed.
"But what kind of work will I be doing?"
"All in good time, Bub. It should be sufficient for now to say that
I believe you're very qualified for this position I'm offering you.
But first, how would my newest employee feel about experiencing one
of the little perks that goes along with his new job. How about a
little good old-fashioned fun? On the house, of course."
"What are you talking about?" The man's words were even more slurred
than before. I really didn't think he should be making any decisions
in the state he was in, but I was determined not to get involved.
"I'm talking about you spending a little quality time with a member
of the opposite sex, my friend," said the odd man. "Plainly you've
already been screwed once today. But that isn't right. It's a
woman's place to get screwed, not a man's. Don't you agree?"
"You got that fucking shit right," snarled the man. "You know, I
really think I'm going like working for you, mister bar owner."
"Of that I have no doubt, my friend," he smiled. "Now what kind of
woman would you prefer for your entertainment pleasure? She can be
anything and everything you want to her be - the only limitation is
your imagination."
The man smiled wickedly. "You're definitely my kind of boss." After
thinking about what he wanted for only a brief moment, he began to
describe the woman he wanted. "I'd like her to be young - why don't
we say early twenties - I've always wanted to be a cradle robber.
She should be a blonde with hair that flows straight down to the top
of her ass. Let her have sky blue eyes. She should be gorgeous past
description. And she should be built like one of those proverbial
brick shithouses I've heard about with a tight little ass and a hot
pussy in near constant need of a good fucking." The man's smile
widened as he thought about the girl he'd described. "Have you got
one just like her sitting around waiting for me?"
"I'm sure I do, Bub," replied the odd man. "Just wait here. I'll go
get her; I should return very soon."
I was kind of surprised by all the peculiar things I'd just witnessed.
It was all so really weird, I wondered if it had really happened or if
simply had too much Scotch. And yet, for a chance to lay some young
hot blonde nympho babe, I might consider volunteering to be laid off
from my own job.
But when I looked towards the counter at the man I now considered one
hell of a lucky dumb shit, something about him no longer seemed just
right.
Was it the dim light in the bar?
Or was my imagination inexplicably beginning to run rampant?
Maybe I'd just had too much Scotch after all.
The man's beard appeared to be rapidly thinning. And the hair on his
head was not only suddenly growing longer, it was getting increasingly
lighter with each inch it grew. In only a few short moments, his
formerly dark hair had already become a light brown color as it
reached shoulder length. His hair showed no sign of stopping or even
slowing there. And only a few moments later what little had remained
of his beard also vanished - almost as if it had never been.
For his age, his face appeared far smoother than I would have ever
expected it to be. And, even if I didn't want to believe what I was
seeing, he seemed to be getting younger while he nervously tapped his
slender fingers on the counter.
When he asked the bartender for another drink, his voice crackled.
Even though the bartender didn't seem to pay much attention to what
was going on, I was very surprised the man himself didn't notice
anything about himself physically changing. Every single change
taking place was pretty noticeable to me, especially those twin
swelling bulges that were slowly and inexorably pushing out the front
of his T-shirt.
Even his T-shirt had changed from the one he'd worn into the bar.
The short sleeves had disappeared. And its neckline had fallen to
bare a very noticeable - and still growing - cleavage.
Sometime when I hadn't been watching - or rather I'd been watching
an entirely different part of his altering anatomy - his legs had
become bared. Apparently the legs of his blue jeans must have fused
together. And in the apparent wink of an eye, it had ridden up the
man's legs to formed a very tight blue denim skirt.
The person I saw sitting at the bar no longer appeared to be male.
He now drank more slowly, taking more lady-like sips. "Thank you,
Jach. I think I'd like another," he told the bartender in a soft
soprano voice that simply dripped pure sex. Just hearing this voice
caused my manhood to stiffen to full attention.
And by the time the bartender had poured another drink and set it in
front of him, the man who had so angrily barged in off the street was
quite plainly no longer physically male. He was now wearing pumps
with two inches heels at the ends of long and slender, very sexy legs.
Under the tight denim skirt he wore was no tell tale indication that
its wearer had formerly been maleness. And an even tighter T-shirt
revealed still more of his impressive Rocky Mountain sized cleavage.
Somehow - I wasn't exactly sure why - the man appeared to have been
transformed into the woman whose company he'd requested. From
everything I could see, he had physically become a twenty-something,
blue-eyed, blonde with hair down to the top of her - it was becoming
harder not thinking of him as a her now - tight little ass. He'd
also asked for the girl to be built like a brick shithouse and,
without any doubts, that was exactly how she'd been reconstructed.
I stared at her... him... in disbelief.
When he... she... looked back and me, she smiled.
But even as she did, I realized he must still know nothing of how
he'd been physically changed. It didn't seem at all possible that
someone could be changed from what he'd been before into what she
was now and fail to notice something had changed. Could it be his
mind had been changed as well?
"Oh shit," I muttered, suddenly wishing I was anyplace but this bar.
Everything was just too weird. And yet, I wasn't quite finished with
my own drink. And I'd always hated seeing good scotch go to waste.
When the odd man finally returned, he was alone.
As the former man at the bar stood up, he... she... casually brushed
his... her... long blonde hair away from the front of his... her...
sexy blue eyes and sweetly gorgeous face. That simple act seemed so
perfectly natural that anyone seeing it might have concluded she'd
been doing it for years.
How could she not notice any of the fantastic changes that had been
made in his body?
Especially that tight little ass he now possessed. And then there
was - I'd be more than willing to bet - her obviously damp and
probably inviting pussy just waiting for some man to come along.
Even as I continued staring at her, I began wondering what was wrong
with me. I didn't want to keep staring at that gorgeous body of hers,
but, at the same time, I just couldn't bear the thought of turning my
eyes away from her... or him... whatever.
I was so confused. I wanted her; I wanted her badly. If only I
hadn't been cursed to see her change from that man into... this
goddess.
Obviously oblivious to any of the conflicting thoughts racing through
my mind, the man - or was that now more appropriately the woman -
grumbled sexily, "I guess I should have known it was too good to be
true," once he saw the man returning alone.
The returning man looked the new woman over very carefully. "Another
excellent transformation, if I do say so myself." The odd man seemed
pleased with himself. "She's absolutely perfect." With no apparent
resistance from the new girl, the odd man placed one of his hands
along the blonde's face - it sort of reminded me of a Vulcan mind
meld - and said unemotionally, "All memories no longer necessary be
now replaced with those that are."
A moment later, as if merely waking from a dream, the blonde slowly
shook her head.
"For the employment paperwork, I need to know what to call you,
sweetie."
"I'm Melanie, of course," replied the blonde. "But there are other
things we must discuss first. When you left earlier, you promised
to return with a little something for me. As you've come back alone,
It seems you've failed to deliver on your promise."
"Have I?" smiled the odd man, as he turned and looked my way. "It
seems to me that what you need now is already here waiting for you,
Melanie."
But I didn't really want to be involved in any of this.
Melanie turned her attention to me. "I saw him sitting there just
checking me out. But he's kinda old and wimpy, ain't he? And what
little hair he has is so gray." She looked me over from head to toe.
"And yet, I really can't let his being an old gray-haired wimp bother
me right now. It's already been too long. And you, of all people,
know just how much I need to get fucked." She looked me over again.
"I suppose that he'll do - but only just barely," she frowned, "for
the time being, at least."
With her tight little ass in full gear, she slinkily approached me.
I couldn't... didn't want to... take my eyes off her hot sexy body.
Somehow I knew I was better than waist deep in shit. I was deeply
involved in something I shouldn't have been. And even worse, I
didn't have the slightest idea what I was involved in. But at the
moment, I didn't really give a shit.
"From the bar, I've seen you staring at me, handsome," she whispered
once she arrived at my booth.
"I'm sorry," I stammered nervously. "I didn't really mean anything by
it." But I doubted she believed me; I wouldn't if I'd been in her
place. Clearly, my unmistakably stiff manhood had already betrayed
the obvious fact that my body was raring and more than willing to do
just about anything she wanted me to do.
"You don't need to be sorry about something so natural, handsome,"
smiled Melanie. "This is just your lucky day." She smiled, as her
gaze turned towards my crotch. "I can clearly see how much you like
me. And I'm pleased; you're larger than I would have imagined."
I was hot - and getting hotter - with lust for her. But the I
remembered. She was - or at least she had been, even though it
didn't seem in any way possible - a man. That one thought alone
seemed to throw ice water onto my lust. I still wanted her, but not
quite as badly. I couldn't imagine not wanting her. But I also
knew deep down I just couldn't do it with her. "I'm really sorry,
Melanie. I just can't," I whispered, even as I tried swallowing
every word as I spoke them, because I knew I really wanted to.
Just then with my world crumbling around me, I heard the outside door
to the bar open. When Melanie looked in the direction of the door,
I saw her smile.
"I take it all back," snapped Melanie. "Today's not your lucky day
after all, you stupid old wussy wimp. You've had your chance with
me and you've blown it." She turned away from me and strutted off
in the direction of that handsome - highly likely unsuspecting -
young man who'd just entered the bar.
"What have I done?" I muttered. And as I watched her ass swaying
back and forth, I wistfully thought to myself that Melanie would have
been absolutely perfect - her formerly being a man notwithstanding -
if only she'd had green eyes and shoulder length red hair. It wasn't
that I disliked blue-eyed blondes, but I'd always been more partial
to green-eyed redheads. But this new young man in her life was quite
obviously impressed - just as he should have been - with Melanie just
the way she was.
In a few short minutes, they'd left the bar together arm in arm. I
assumed, even though I wasn't about to ask anyone any questions, that
they'd gone next door to spawn like salmon.
I decided it was long past time for me to be on my way. There were
strange inexplicable things going on in this bar that I simply wanted
no part of. With that I reached down and picked up what was left of
my Scotch. Strangely, there seemed to be more left in the glass than
I remembered. But aside from Melanie, no one had even come near my
table. I chugged the remaining contents of the glass in a single
swallow. It was time to leave this place. And I doubted I'd ever
return.
"She was very disappointed with you, you know," said the odd man, who
was suddenly now sitting in the booth with me.
"What?" I asked. "Who?"
"Why Melanie, of course. Who else could have been disappointed with
you tonight?"
"But she used to be a man. I saw him change into Melanie."
"So that's it! I thought that might be the case when you refused
her," replied the odd man. "But you should also know that a lot of
my best girls began life that way. I would never hold something so
insignificant and so totally not their fault against them. And I've
never considered their former maleness a crime among my girls." The
odd man smiled at me. "And you can definitely believe me when I tell
you that all my girls are one hundred percent full and hot blooded
females regardless of which sex they might have been born."
"But you took advantage of him."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It's all in the point of view really,"
replied the odd man. "Just remember that he'd been royally fucked
over today and lost his job. At his age, as you should also be well
aware, landing another job might have taken him far more time than
he had left. What was done to him is definitely not fair, but that's
just the way it is." The odd man looked me straight in the eye.
"Tell me what's so wrong with what I did? I simply returned her
youth and opened her up to another world full of new opportunities.
She won't even be a burden to the system now. And, as a bonus of
sorts, she can now get screwed all the time and it won't bother her.
Not only will she enjoy it, she'll be getting paid - and quite well
I might add - for it."
I was stunned. I wanted to run away and hide. But when I tried to
stand up, I found couldn't budge from the booth.
"Are you going somewhere?" he grinned at me.
"I was thinking I should be leaving."
"Not just yet. Unfortunately for you, you saw and heard far too
much for your own, as well as my, good." As he smiled at me, he
shook his head. "If only you would have taken Melanie up on her
generous offer of lustful sex, this step wouldn't have become
necessary. By the time the time the two of you would have finished
indulging one another, one of the more useful side effects of her
new pheromones would have erased all knowledge of her ever being a
man.
"You know, I don't know why the intended effects of my girls' lust
producing pheromones are lessened in the face of the truth, but they
are. And as a result of watching her transformation, you were able
to resist her temptations - even if just barely."
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"Youn don't really need to worry about that. It's all academic." He
looked down at my emptied glass. "The potion's already begun taking
effect. So tell me truthfully now - as if you really have another
choice - what kind of girl would you like be?"
"There's no way I'm falling victim to that crap. You forget, I saw
how it worked on Melanie." Intent on saying nothing else to him, I
stared at the odd man, even as I casually swept away those long red
strands of hair that always seemed to be falling across my face.
The End
Anastasia
- 03.03.2020
- 18
- 0
