Step Into My Office

All right, I admit it. I was an idiot.

I never should have worn the butt plug--if “worn” is the right word--in the first place, especially not to work, but I couldn’t help myself.

Okay, I guess I could have helped myself; nobody forced me to insert a plug up my ass. It’s just that, ever since Hermie left me for (of all things) a genetic girl, I’ve felt lonely--and horny. I guess my self-esteem was at an ebb, too--I mean, losing a guy to a genetic girl does nothing for a shemale’s ego. I thought a cock up my ass, even a fake one, might take my mind off my distress. After all, what girl doesn’t feel better when she’s “full.” It’s reassuring. It’s comforting. It’s like sucking one’s thumb, only much better.

I’d lubricated my anus and my rectum liberally with K-Y, crouched over the toilet, willed my sphincter to relax, and slowly, but resolutely, eased the butt plug into my ass until it was fully inserted. Immediately upon experiencing the familiar sensation of having my impaled bottom stuffed with cock, artificial though it was, I felt a good deal better about my situation and myself. The feeling of being filled, I guess you could say, was fulfilling. I’d also enjoy the knowledge that no one else but me knows that, beneath my skirt and panties, I had a thick, hard latex prick shoved up my ass. It made my cock swell as much as the butt plug’s pressure against my prostate, and it made my nipples stiffen beneath the fabric of my blouse.

For work, I’d decided to wear a simple white blouse, a mini-skirt, and a pair of patent leather pumps. I’d carry a small black clutch purse, with the tube of K-Y inside, in case I needed to visit the powder room.

My car was in the shop and, having just relocated to Las Vegas, I didn’t know anyone other than the people with whom I worked. I’d thought about asking a coworker for a ride, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing so. I mean, I hardly knew any of them yet. Instead, I ascertained which bus route would get me from my apartment to the office.