V and The Corporate Perk (moderate futa/f, referenced f to futa, bad/silly fan-fic)

Story by error403

Greetings y'all,

Long time lurker, first time story poster here. I don't know how y'all are dealing with yet another delay of Cyberpunk 2077, but apparently I'm dealing with it by writing futanari smut "possible character background". I don't know if this is actually how I'd play the character in the game that is again delayed, but it was a bunch of dumb ideas that came together in my head plus a silly excuse to write a lot of terrible "corporate lingo" double entendres.

V couldn't imagine why anyone would have been surprised that after all the times she had been told she'd

really need a dick to succeed anywhere in the company that V managed to wrangle together the funds and the

reimbursable corporate resources to grow one. She liked to call it The Company Perk, not just because it

was a depreciating asset officially on the company's books, but she also liked to provide some of its

benefits to a select few of her fellow employees. (Also, strictly on the books. Unlike most of her

colleagues born with one, V made dead certain all of her more pleasurable uses of such a company asset were

properly contracted and in accord with all HR policies, both on and off company time.)

The meeting that V was in was exactly the sort of meeting where she spent too much time in it just picturing

whipping out The Company Perk and parking it right there on the conference table. A couple of bozos from

legal were have a virtual dick measuring contest of some off topic, pro forma bullshit, and V liked to

imagine it would be less a waste of company time to just make the contest physical. This was of course in

part because V was very confident The Company Perk swung larger than whatever these chuckleheads had been

born with; they wouldn't be wasting everyone's time like this if they were packing anything worth measuring.

However, V was also intimately familiar with how much paperwork she would have needed to fill out weeks ago

to get the permit to do that sort of intervention. This wasn't just an idle daydream as V had used precisely

such a contest once before to best a former rival and ascend a couple rungs on the corporate ladder. (While

not one to kiss and tell about her contracts involving The Company Perk, it was of some public company record

under scandal prevention regulations at this point that that particular former rival was now very consensually

loving a new position serving directly under V, in order to better access some of the benefits provided by

The Company Perk.)

V instead attempted a maneuver that was subtly the next best thing, and well within the scope of her general

"concealed carry" permits at the company. It was a maneuver that had taken months of practice to get right,

and when she did it just perfect no one else in the room should know that she had done it on purpose, and

more importantly shouldn't consciously register the dominance tactic that was attempted nor the intended

poker of "I see your dick measuring contest and I raise."

The first part was a discrete ball scratch. It took a lot of effort to make it discrete but not too discrete

in that it needed to be just the right amount of noticeable. Yet also not noticeably discrete and accidentally

drawing attention to how discrete it was pretending to be. V had studied a lot of film to get it to

point where she could pull it off with confidence that it looked masculine enough, discrete enough, and

natural enough that no one would consciously catch it, but everyone would notice.

The second part was an extremely feminine readjustment of her skirt hem and recrossing of her legs. This

also was a much studied and well practiced action designed to seem as natural as the lady-like habits she had

grow up with, but with a darker more masculine hint under the very feminine facade, just like herself these

days. While overall a very outwardly feminine move, instead of attempting to demurely hide her panties and

what they contained from further sight, the way she draped her leg across the other was designed to push

The Company Perk directly upward and out against the stretchy fabric of her pencil skirt. The readjustment

of her hem only further trapping The Company Perk inside the stretching fabric. To anyone with a direct

view of her legs now it would be unmistakable the outline of the still flacid Company Perk against her

raised thigh.

Of course, as concealed under a conference table as her legs were, V should have perfect plausible

deniability that anyone noticed that tell tale bulge in her skirt. Yet somehow the mixed signals

of that power move almost always seemed to work. V imagined there was some sort of radar active during

these kinds of virtual dick measuring contests and she was pinging it hard enough (despite how soft

she currently was) to win the poker hand, subconsciously at least. V also realistically knew it was

more probably some air of confidence she exuded every time she felt that she successfully compl

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