A Secretary Situation (Secretary TF)

The bell above the door gave a cheerful jingle, immediately swallowed by the buzzing of machines and the faint crackle of static in the air. Inside, the shop was part antique store, part mad science lab, and part magical fallout zone. Strange devices littered every surface. Some humming, some blinking, some twitching as if alive. A sign above the counter read:
“Wan-Ting’s Wonderworks – We Fix What Magic Broke (Or Break It More!)”

From the back, a muffled clatter rang out, followed by a puff of glittery smoke and a triumphant cheer.

Saaga stepped through the door without flinching. Her heavy boots thudded against the tiled floor, long black coat billowing slightly. She moved like a shadow with purpose. She was tall, pale, and effortlessly goth, her black hair covered half her face unbothered by the summer heat outside.

She stood in the center of the room, arms folded, gaze unmoving.

“Helloooooo?” she called, her voice low and velvet-smooth.

A head popped out from behind a stack of levitating teapots. A white haired woman in a black and white dress with a massive cleavage window shuffled around trying to make it out from wherever she was. It was Wan-Ting herself, beaming at her new guest. She threw to the side the lab coat she wore and greeted Saaga with a warm and welcoming smile. 

“Oh! A customer? A cursed one? A curious one?” Her eyes lit up with possibility. “Or just someone who needs a very experimental toaster?”

“I’m here for a job,” Saaga replied.

Wan-Ting blinked, then grinned wider. “Oh, marvelous! I could absolutely use an assistant! Are you good at organizing unstable magic? Filing out enchanted forms? Negotiating with monsters from different dimensions for contracts?”

“I don’t know yet,” Saaga said. “I’m not actually interested in the work.”

Wan-Ting paused, mid-reach for a clipboard. “…You’re not?”

“I’m here to learn,” Saaga continued, glancing coolly at the shelves of magical trinkets. “About magical items. Their uses. Their possibilities. How one can use them… for fun.”

There was a beat of silence.

Wan-Ting squinted. “Alright. Gonna need a little more context before I hand you a random hexed pen and pray for the best.”

Saaga sighed. “There’s a girl. Her name’s Ika. She’s... into magic. Like, really into it. She writes potion reviews for fun. According to her, she has been turned into over twenty different things, including a giantess and a mermaid. She also claims that this is her go to shop for these sorts of things. So I thought…”

“Ohohoho.” Wan-Ting leaned on the counter, her grin turning sly. “Love. That explains everything. Say no more, tall goth stranger.”

“Saaga.”

“Saaga! Wonderful name. Tragic vowels, impeccable energy. I approve.” She snapped her fingers. “You, my dear, are hired.”

“…Just like that?”

Wan-Ting was already halfway across the room, rummaging through a box labeled “Totally Legal Augments.” “Of course! Love is the greatest motivator known to science and magic. You want Ika to notice you? We’ll make sure she can’t look away.”

Saaga raised an eyebrow. “That’s not subtle.”

“You want Ika to notice you? We’ll make sure she can’t look away.”

Wan-Ting paused, eyes gleaming.

“Let’s start with the basics.”

Wan-Ting held up the silver ring like it was the holy grail of fashion. “Ring of Instant Classy Clothes,” she announced proudly. “Guaranteed to give you that ‘I’m-too-important-for-small-talk’ energy. Just slip it on!”

Saaga raised a skeptical eyebrow, but took the ring. It was dainty, almost too small for her gloved fingers. But as soon as she slipped it onto her hand, the gem pulsed once, twice, then flared with a brilliant light.

Her coat vanished in an instant, swallowed by the glow. In its place, black silk and dark greys wrapped around her like ribbons forming a sculpture. A crisp, high-slit pencil skirt gripped her hips like a second skin. A white blouse with a deep neckline flared into existence, tucked seamlessly beneath a black blazer that fit like it was tailored by someone with a very specific agenda. Ending in glossy stockings that shimmered as they hugged her long legs.

The transformation didn'twasn’t just affect her clothing. It reshaped her body too.

Her shoulders squared. Her stance adjusted. Her spine straightened with a quiet elegance, and her movements shifted from stoic goth girl to composed powerful woman. When she adjusted her collar with one gloved hand, it was with the confidence of someone who routinely shuts down meetings with a glance.

Wan-Ting clapped. “Yes! Now that says professional fantasy! Very chic. Very deadly. Ika will be THRILLED. But we’re just getting started!”

She was already back in the “Totally Legal Augments” box, rummaging through half-labeled bags, ignoring the faint magical buzzing that now radiated from Saaga’s outfit.

Saaga flexed one gloved hand, glancing down at herself. Her lips curled slightly. “...Fancy.”

“Right? Okay! Now try this one: The Breastpocket Pen of Infinite Bounty!” Wan-Ting tossed her a sleek silver pen, the kind an executive might sign billion-gold contracts with.

Saaga caught it effortlessly. “Sounds ominous.”

“Oh it is! But very effective.” Wan-Ting was elbow-deep in a pile of glowing scarves. “Attach it to your pocket.”

The moment the pen clipped onto her blouse’s breast pocket, it pulsed. Once. Then again. Then again.

Saaga’s breath caught.

Her chest began to swell, slowly at first, then with a steady, relentless expansion. The once-perfectly-fitted blouse began to pull tighter and tighter. The fabric strained across her front, buttons shifting position like they were in retreat. Her cleavage deepened, her posture shifting slightly under the growing weight.

Then it kept going.

Each breath brought another size up. From full to exaggerated, from exaggerated to surreal. Her breasts ballooned outward with a sort of luxurious inevitability, until they dominated her front entirely. Quickly they became shapely, perky, but wildly oversized, sitting proudly and heavily on her chest. It looked like her blouse had declared war on physics and was losing the battle button by button… yet somehow, magically, it held.

Wan-Ting didn’t even look up. “Oh, good, it’s working! One of my finest. Gives you presence. Ika loves a strong silhouette. Plus, you'll never lose that pen.”

Saaga’s voice dropped an octave. “I feel like I could store someone in this blouse.”

“Exactly!” Wan-Ting called from inside a box of glittering shoes. “Storage, symbolism, sensuality, —it’s all connected.”

Saaga shifted her stance slightly, feeling the new weight shift with her. She glanced down at her now-comically enormous bust and adjusted the pen, which sat smugly at the summit like it owned the place.

“Wan-Ting,” she said, her tone casual but sharpedged. “Are youYou sure this is going somewhere reasonable?”

Wan-Ting popped up with eyes that sparkled like stars. “Reason is relative! And besides. Wait till you try these next!”

Wan-Ting beamed as she set the latest artifact on the counter with a flourish. 

“Behold! The Heels of Walking Elegance,” she declared, presenting a pair of dark violet stilettos with heels sharp enough to skewer hubris. “They elevate everything. Posture, presence, pelvic power… Important for both corporate warfare and romantic conquest.”

Saaga stared at them, arms folded beneath the immense shelf of her new bust. “They look like they’d snap my ankles.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Wan-Ting waved a hand as she rummaged deeper into her crates. “They’re enchanted for stability and... enhancement. Just slide ‘em on. Trust the process.”

With an exasperated sigh, Saaga bent slightly…an effort now that her chest made bending a careful operation… and slipped one foot, then the other into the heels.

They clicked into place with a small magical chime.

Instantly, her thighs began to pulse.

A deep heat ran through her legs as her skin tightened, muscles swelling and curving in slow, sinuous waves. Her thighs ballooned outward with decadent purpose, like dough rising under enchanted moonlight. Every second added more volume, more softness, more overwhelming thickness. What had once been lean, elegant legs were rapidly becoming monumentally large.

Her calves shaped to match, but her thighs…her thighs were becoming mythic. Each step made them ripple and strain against the sleek black stockings, the pressure on her skirt growing as her hips flared out to accommodate. The hemline crawled higher just to keep up.

Her walk shifted involuntarily into a practiced, hypnotic strut. Each step was deliberate. Every sway of her hips was a performance. DAnd despite the impossible size of her legs, she moved perfectly, as if the heels were puppeteering her into the ideal secretary seductress walk.

She wobbled once, just once, before catching herself with a confident click of her heel. Her widened hips settled like boulders into position.

Wan-Ting didn’t notice a thing. “Now where did I put that interrogation notebook…? I could swear it was next to the Reality-Rewriting Ledger—ah! Here!”

She held up a small, neat notepad with a black leather cover and a shimmering gold spiral binding.

“Notepad of Merciless Interrogation!” she said proudly, placing it in Saaga’s hand. “Perfect for any aspiring secretary-slash-diplomat-slash-domme. It allows you to ask very pointed questions and record notes for months, allowing sit opportunities that even the gods can only dream of.”

As Saaga touched the cover, a pulse of magic surged through her like a bolt of lightning, and settled squarely at her backside.

She barely had time to speak before it began.

Her hips widened with a shudder, and her rear surged outward with reckless magical momentum. Each breath brought another inch, another curve, another bounce. Her once-tight skirt groaned against the expansion, stretched to its absolute limits by the shelf-like shape that was forming beneath it.

It wasn’t just big. It was tsculpted. The kind of cartoonishly plush butt that defied logic, balance, and gravity, but demanded admiration.

Her center of mass had moved. Sitting down now would mean sitting down. Permanently. Like a queen settling into her throne to cross-examine reality itself.

Saaga straightened slowly, her posture shifted to accommodate the new dimensions. Her exaggerated curves now dominated every line of her silhouette. Her walk, forced by the heels, now had the unintentional side effect of a hypnotic jiggle trailing in her wake.

And Wan-Ting still was not looking.

“I think this is going extremely well,” SheWan-Ting said as she scrawled something down on a loose napkin with a sentient quill. “You’re already shaping into the kind of woman who makes people sign contracts they didn’t know they were offered!”

Saaga’s hands rested on the counter, trying to gauge the new gravity of her body. “I think I’m becoming... several women.”

“Mmm, just a few finishing touches left,” Wan-Ting muttered, completely ignoring Saaga'sSaagas pleas. “Where’s that hairpin of intelligence? I swear I left it near the cursed stapler...”

Wan-Ting practically dove under a desk, then popped up victorious, waving a tiny silver hairpin like she’d just retrieved the jackpot from beneath a vending machine.

“Ha! Found it! Hairpin of Intelligence.” She wiggled it in the air. “Slot this into your lovely locks, and you’ll go from brooding beauty to brainy bombshell in 0.2 seconds flat.”

Saaga eyed the pin. “That’s a lot of promises from something smaller than a paperclip.”

“And yet it delivers,” Wan-Ting said, placing it gently into Saaga’s hand. “Though I should probably warn you—there might be a mild... uh... internal renovation.”

Saaga didn’t hesitate. She lifted the pin and, in one smooth motion, slid it into her thick black hair.

The effect was immediate.

Her hair twisted, coiling into motion like silk caught in an unseen breeze. Strands shifted and rearranged themselves with supernatural precision, forming a perfect sharp bob: angular, sleek, not a single strand out of place. The severe parting revealed her full face for the first time, exposing high cheekbones and now-glowing eyes.

Her irises shimmered, yellow fading rapidly to a piercing, unnatural blue. Within each eye, spirals began to form. They were soft at first, then solidifying into permanent, mesmerizing vortexes of arcane energy. They turned slowly, hypnotically, like the gears of a machine that knew everything.

Then came the glasses.

They materialized with a tiny chime. Thin-rimmed, elegant, and perched themselves neatly on her nose. Not a fashion statement. Not a gimmick. They looked like they belonged there, as if they’d been waiting for her all along.

Saaga blinked once .

aAnd her mind ignited.

She gasped softly as unseen doors opened inside her thoughts. Formulas, schedules, filing protocols, ancient contract law, thirteen languages (including demon formal and infernal legalese), multi-realm time optimization techniques… all of it flooded her brain at once, perfectly ordered, catalogued, and understood.

She reached out, picked up a quill, twirled it with impossible dexterity, and made a note in perfect calligraphy without looking.

When she finally spoke, her voice had changed.

No longer dry. No longer sultry. Now it was warm, smooth, and commanding, with an edge of polished professionalism so sharp it could sign legal threats.

“I’ve completed a preliminary analysis of your inventory backlog,” she said, looking at Wan-Ting through her spiraling eyes. “You’re behind on cross-realm patent filings, five enchanted appliances are overdue for maintenance, and your coffee golem is three minutes late.”

Wan-Ting looked up from a bin of brass contracts and blinking pens. “Oh—oh! Is it really? …I-I mean, what the…?.”

Saaga stepped forward. Her heels clicked in confident rhythm, hips swaying with impossible elegance, her chest and rear defying gravity yet supported by raw arcane intent.

She leaned slightly over the counter, hands clasped neatly in front of her.

“I am now,” she said with a slow smile, “Wan-Ting’s passionate personal secretary.”

Wan-Ting opened her mouth and then. Cclosed it. 

“Ohhh! I really outdid myself.” Wan-Ting gasps. “This is… probably a bit more than I anticipated. I-I should fix that. Probably. Ahaha…”

Wan-Ting stood at the edge of the room, sizing up at Saaga with a mix of pride, awe... and a pinch of terror. Many thoughts went through her head, but…

“Okay. Okay!” she finally blurted out. “We have definitely gone overboard. I am going into the storage real quick and fetch a reversal potion. That okay with you?”

Saaga didn’t even look up from her clipboard.

“No.”

Wan-Ting blinked. “No?”

“No,” Saaga repeated calmly, flipping a page. “We’ll talk about reversals after I finish compiling your quarterly supply chain evaluation, restructure your storage wards, and refile your multi-dimensional client forms in alphabetically color-coded folders.”

Wan-Ting opened her mouth, raised a finger, then slowly lowered it. “But I—”

“You’ve been operating at a seventy-three percent chaos threshold,” Saaga continued, heels clicking as she walked across the newly cleared floor with overwhelming poise. “I’ve reduced it to twenty-one in the last minute. If I stop now, it will regress.”

Wan-Ting sputtered. “But you’ve got spirals in your eyes! You’ve become... become...” She gestured vaguely at Saaga’s entire ludicrously exaggerated silhouette. “This is a very specific vibe you’re giving off!”

“Yes. Competent.”

That shut Wan-Ting up.

She watched, slack-jawed, as Saaga spun between three simultaneous tasks. Pen gliding over a scroll, shelves reorganizing at her subtle gestures, and magical contracts being sorted into glowing filing cabinets that hadn’t even existed that morning.

Two hours later, Wan-Ting emerged from the back lab with a wrench in one hand and a juice box in the other.

She stopped in her tracks.

The shop… was unrecognizable.

The clutter was gone. The glowing hazards were neatly contained in runic safety cubes. All the cursed items were in secure, labeled bins. The air smelled faintly of citrus and confidence.

And there, by the front counter, stood Saaga… no, Secretary Saaga… looking like the cover girl for "Arcane Professional Monthly." One hand on her hip, the other gesturing elegantly as she spoke with…

“Ika?” Wan-Ting squinted.

It was indeed Ika, that chaotic regular with a fondness for magical transformations and leaving as a completely different being each time. Today, she was her usual self, short reddish hair, mischievous grin, and eyes filled with sparkles.

She looked enthralled.

“I had no idea you worked here now,” Ika was saying, gazing up at Saaga with visible interest. “You’re like… a magical Secretary dream. You even got the glasses and everything.”

Saaga smiled in a professional and poised way, and just flirtatious enough.

“Only the best for this position,” she said. “Would you like to schedule a consultation for magical enhancement or request a transformation demo? We have appointment slots open on Thursdays and during lunar eclipses.”

Wan-Ting quietly slurped her juice box, wide-eyed.

Ika leaned on the counter. “Actually... Do youdo you think there’s room for two secretaries in this store?”

Wan-Ting choked. “Oh no.”

Saaga turned her head, her eyes spiraling gently like twin whirlpools of smug satisfaction. “Doctor Wan-Ting, shall I begin drawing up an application form?”

“Doctor?!?” Wan-Ting stared for a long moment. Then slumped.

“Fine. Fiiine. One magical chaos mistress was bad enough. Two secretaries? Sure. Why not?not. What could possibly go wrong?.”

Saaga smiled wider. “I’ll prepare the onboarding materials.”

Wan-Ting groaned. “I created a monster. A very helpful, extremely curvy monster.”

“A...and I am about to have a second one…”

—

A dose of pure professionalism.