At twenty-eight years old I finally realized I was going nowhere fast at SLC Corp. They had promised me an executive position which never came true, and would certainly never come unless SLC changed its outdated misogynist policy: there were no executive women in SLC Corp.

So I started job hunting and managed to get an interview for an executive position in a Fortune 500 company.

The initial interview was scheduled at a recruiting agency and I went dressed in a black long-sleeved blouse, a professional pair of gray pants and flat shoes. It went well. The recruiter was a middle-aged man, in charge of screening the candidates before getting them an interview with someone within the company.

"I have only one problem with you, he said. It's the way you are dressed.
-What's wrong with it?
-Your top is wrinkled. Don't you iron your clothes?"

I looked down. He was right. My clothes were so wrinkled they looked like they were made in paper. In fact, they were in paper. I panicked, realizing they could rip at any moment before I woke up.

****
The beep beep of my pocket alarm clock sent me back to reality. It was only a dream, of course. Still, I saw it as a warning.
The interview was scheduled at 9am. While getting ready, I made extra sure that my clothes were flawless.
I normally don't worry that much about how I dress. However, after this weird dream, I tried several items of clothing and was extra critical about it. As a result, I was almost running late.

I had settled on gray: gray pants, gray blouse.  Black shoes and black shirt.

Contrary to my dream, there were several other candidates, 3 women. I noticed that they were all showing cleavage, and one of them was struggling with a really tight and short skirt. I wondered what they were thinking. Did they seriously think that seducing the recruiter was going to work? I snickered.

The interview went well. But at the end, he made a weird statement:
"The way you dress don't give the impression you really want this job.
-Excuse-me?
-We are recruitment specialists. Trust me, the way you dress is very important.  You should know that a French study showed that women wearing low cut tops had a clear advantage in the recruitment process."

I was speechless. Angry, disgusted, and, somehow... A bit ashamed of myself. I started to wonder why I didn't wear something to show my assets when he added:

"Showing legs helps, too."

With that sentence, he had crossed a line.

I opened my mouth to give this pig a piece of my mind. But the only sound I could make was...

***
"Beep beep beep beep..."

Another dream. It was another dream. It was so realistic it left me disorientated for several minutes.

Out of curiosity, I googled "french study cleavage interview" and that was true, I found a lot of articles saying that showing some flesh does seem to help a lot in the recruitment process. I guess I must have seen this headline before and incorporated it in my dreams. Maybe my subconscious mind was giving me a warning.

Remembering the shame I had felt in my dream, I decided to wear a low cut top to display my modest b-cup. And, at the last second, I discarded my pants for a knee-length tight pencil skirt. Of course, I had to wear pantyhose and some low heels.

I knew I was looking fantastic. I hadn't dressed that well in a long time. I caught some male stare while walking in the street.

But when I entered the waiting room, my heart sank. There were 5 other female, all displaying an impressive amount of cleavage. I couldn't help but to feel a bit jealous. The smallest cup was double D at least. It was obvious some of them had implants. I sat, demoralized, and waited for my turn to be interviewed.

At least, the interviewer seemed to appreciate my outfit. He complimented me and asked if I was ready to dress like that every day. I told him I was.

"So, it'll be your every day outfit then.
-Yes.
-You'll keep wearing skirt, heels and low cut tops every day.
-Yes, if that's required!
-I'm a bit disappointed. I thought you would be wearing something special for this job interview. Most people tend to dress a little fancier than their every day outfit."

Immediately, I felt ashamed. What was I thinking? I should have known better than to wear an everyday outfit.

"It's alright. I strongly advise dressing a little fancier than this casual outfit for future interviews. Shorter skirts than usual, higher heels, a little more make up maybe.
And last question, when did you first wanted to have a breast augmentation surgery?
-I... I don't know."

What was this weird question? Sure, I was a bit envious of the attributes the other candidates had in the chest department but...

"Wasn't it when you were a teenager?
-Maybe...
-Don't you remember begging your parents for a boob job for your sweet 16?"

I did?

"That's why you wanted a breast augmentation surgery as soon as possible."

Really? No... I couldn't remember right. I didn't... well, the other girls were much more endowed but... Surgery? For me?

"Aren't you happy to finally have the surgery done today?"

Today?! Yes. I was so happy. I couldn't wait.

***
"Beep beep beep", said my pocket alarm clock. What a weird dream. It mixed up my upcoming breast augmentation surgery and the job interview I had scheduled next week.
I had booked the best clinic in town, so it was all being taken cared of. A car picked me up and took me to the clinic, where I had a final appointment with my doctor.
That was funny, he looked like the man I saw in my dream about the interview.
We reviewed together what I wanted: high profile, slightly torpedo shaped, obviously fake, and huge. They should literally open doors for me. It was my dream since so long... I wanted these implants since I was 16.
They prepped me up for surgery, and I drifted into a deep sleep...

***
"Beep beep beep beep..."
What a weird dream. I didn't know what was that about. As far as I remember, I always had huge breasts. I had fake breast since I was 16, it was my birthday present. My parents couldn't understand why I wanted implants this big, but I was adamant. As the result, I was of course the most endowed girl in school.

I forgot the weird dream as I got dressed for the interview. I wore a pale blue low cut top. There was no way I could hide my chest, so why should I even try? I decided on a mini skirt with medium heels. I worked a bit more on my makeup than usual and went to the interview.

Several blondes women and a mousy brunette were already waiting. The brunette wasn't displaying any cleavage... I was sad for her. She needed to make some efforts to get a job.

The interview went well. Except at the end when he asked about my management skill set.
"I don't mean to be rude but... I guess, sometimes, it must be hard for you to be taken seriously since your... augmentation."
He was right.

"I guess once you had the surgery, a lot of girls thought you were vain and cheated your way to a better body. And the boys couldn't look past your implants either, isn't it right? They are your defining feature. And it doesn't help that they're so sensitive, either. They are always in your mind. So distracting."

What was he saying? Such nonsense had left me speechless.

"You were once a quick-witted, spiritual, active girl. After the surgery, most of your time consist of "being the girl with the gigantic boobs", that is, standing and smiling, obvious to your surrounding, your mind always drawn to your sensitive assets. And when someone asks you something that you can't answer, you do the only sensible thing. You giggle. Isn't it?"

How was I supposed to answer to this insane description? I giggled.

***
"Beep beep..."
I was awake before my alarm clock sets off. Since I had gotten my surgery when I was a teen, my breasts had become so sensitive... Every morning, I couldn't keep my hands off them. This morning was no exception. I wasted 10 minutes  rubbing my nipples, in a pleasurable daze.

As usual, I got lost 2 or 3 times on the way. I couldn't focus to the voice navigation system as my mind kept drifting to the erotic feelings coming from my ample chest. Every slight move I made was magnified by my overly sensitive breasts. I had to rub the girls on the steering wheel to stay somewhat focused.

There were 3 other candidates, none of them hotter than me.

The interview didn't go so well. I tried to giggle my way out of many tricky questions, but of course he noticed.

"You seem so distracted. Are you always like this?"
I wanted to say that some days I was worse, but I assured him no.

"How did you get your business degree with such an attitude?"
I told him I didn't know. Giggled.

"Let me check", he said
He left the office to give a phone call. I waited nervously several minutes. Why was I nervous? I had nothing to fear. I didn't lie on my resume. I realized I was absentmindedly rubbing my tits when he came back.

"I'm sorry. I was on the phone with the director of your school, a personal friend of mine. He remembers you. You lied in your resume, didn't you? He said you were excluded for indecent exposure.
-What are you talking about?!
-It's alright. He told me about your condition. Your breasts are overly erogenous but that's nothing compared to the heat constantly building between your legs, isn't it? I heard you can barely keep your hand away 10 minutes from your needy pussy. Isn't it?"

I didn't know what to say.

"That's why you dropped out of your business degree. Fortunately, you figured out the perfect job for you. Being an office girl."

***
"Beep beep..."
What a weird dream. As I masturbated  in bed (like every morning) I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Suddenly, I panicked. Did I lie on my resume?
I fired up my computer to check. No mention of an imaginary business degree. I was relieved. There was a mention of the first year I did in business school, but that was all. If I haven't been so horny all the time, I could have achieved this degree but...
Since my computer was on, I browsed some of my favorite porn sites while rubbing my pussy.

I dressed in a especially short skirt and chose a top displaying a maximum amount of my gigantic cleavage. On my way, I masturbated in my car as usual.

I was the only candidate. The interviewer asked me about some minor details in my resume and asked me why I wanted to be an office whore.

"Excuse me?, was all I could say.
-An office GIRL. Sorry. You want to be an office girl for so long, isn't it?"
Was it?

"Do you know what is expected from an office whore?
-Well..."
He gave me dozens of DVDs with very evocating titles: "Anal ass-istant" (vol 1, 2, 3), "Sexretary's day" (vol 1 to 6), "seductive sexecutives" (vol 1 and 2), "submissives secretaries" (vol 1 to 5)...

"This is not porn", he said." This is some training material. This will teach you how an office girl behave in her job. You'll emulate what you'll see. You'll watch it all in one take  in the office next door, on the computer. You may masturbate."

He took me to the office and stayed with me through the first movie. The protagonist was a blonde who was trying to seduce her boss.
"Look at her. It's a role model for you. She's horny all the time, like you are. But she's so seductive. You admire her. This is the kind of job you want. This is what the job is about. This is the job you wanted to do at SLC Corp, isn't it?"

I realized he was right.

***
"Beep beep..."
Weird dream. Of course I knew what being an office girl is about! I dressed, extra short skirt, extra low cut top, extra make up, extra red lipstick. As an office girl, I knew I had to suck and fuck all day.
 And I loved it!