The Company
Chapter 6

Copyright© 2017 by Janno Jones

Horror Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Albert Branson gets a job transfer to a company in the Midwest, where he finds strange goings on. His wife's personality and body start changing, and things get weirder and weirder.

Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mind Control   Heterosexual   Horror   Aliens   Slut Wife   Body Modification  

NOTE TO READERS: I decided to change Albert’s wife’s name from Liana to Christina. Hope this doesn’t cause confusion, but I have my reasons for doing this. Hope you’re enjoying the story!

Albert was troubled the rest of the afternoon, but he tried to put his worries aside and focus on his work. He managed to lose himself for several hours working on the intricacies of some marketing projections, and he was actually startled when Mr. Benson appeared in his office at the end of the day. The older man smiled and put a small white envelope on Albert’s desk.

“What’s this?” Albert said. The envelope had his and Christina’s names written in some fancy calligraphy, and it looked like a wedding invitation.

“It’s an invitation to a dinner at The Founder’s mansion,” Mr. Benson said. “He likes to hold these things once in awhile, and it’ll be a good opportunity for your wife to meet the rest of the company. And for us to get a look at her,” he said, smiling.

“Actually,” Albert said, “we’re not very social people. My wife is very quiet and she doesn’t socialize much. She gets very anxious at cocktail parties and formal dinners because she’s not good at small talk. I think we’ll pass.” He tried to hand the envelope back to Mr. Benson, but the other man brushed his hand away.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Mr. Benson said, the smile disappearing from his face. “No, that would definitely not be a good idea. The Founder likes 100% attendance at his events. It really would help your standing in the company if you attended.”

“I appreciate the invitation, really I do,” Albert said, “but I will have to decline. These things cause my wife a lot of anxiety. She won’t want to come, I’m sure.”

“I would strongly suggest that you attend,” Mr. Benson said, his face darkening and his eyes narrowing. “In the 20 years I’ve been with this company I only remember one person who refused to come to a dinner at The Founder’s house. That unfortunate employee didn’t last very long after that.” Then he brightened again. “Although, as I recall, his wife stayed on in the area and became president of our Wives Club. She had a magnificent appetite, and it was really wonderful to see the way she filled out.”

Something about the way his face changed sent a chill down Albert’s spine. “Okay,” Albert said, putting the invitation in his pocket, “I’ll go home and ask Christina about it and see what she says. I doubt she’ll want to come but I’ll give it a shot.”

“Good decision,” Mr. Benson said. “I know this dinner will be a real high point for both you and your wife. You’ll both be glad you came.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Albert more puzzled than ever about this company. He drove home from work turning it all over in his mind. Maybe I made a mistake taking this job, he thought. Maybe I should just start sending my resume out to some corporate recruiters, register with some job search Websites, and try to find something else. I’ll look for positions in a different part of the country. Maybe back East, where things seem more normal, where corporate executives don’t go around bragging about how fat their wives are.

When he pulled into the driveway, he heard music blaring from his house again. He saw Stacy’s car parked on the street, and several other late model sports cars. He didn’t know what to expect when he opened the door, but what he saw shocked him.

When Albert opened the door to his house his senses were assaulted like he’d been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. There was ear-splitting music playing, there was the smell of greasy french fries, cheeseburgers, and pizza, and he saw a dozen obese women with big hair and lots of makeup, wearing skintight party dresses and high heels, all gathered around the kitchen table.

It was like he’d stumbled into a fast food convention. There were buckets of fried chicken, boxes of pizza, gallons of soda and supersize milkshakes everywhere. One of the women saw him and came teetering over on her high heels, her massive hips wiggling from side to side. She thrust her body up next to him so that he was pushed against the wall by her enormous stomach and breasts.

“Hey cutie, what are you doing here?” she said, running her hands up and down his leg. “Are you the man of the house? I could see why that little Christina must be happy screwing a guy like you.”

 
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