Steel Toed

Part II of III

a short story by Dan Standing


Joan got back to her office without issue. She’d parked her car, rode the elevator up, sat down, and started working as if there wasn’t a thing different about her.

A few gossipy employees took notice of her metal-covered legs, but that was about all that seemed out of place. She appeared to be entirely her normal self.

But the brunette’s activities at her computer were entirely automatic muscle memory. Approve this. Check that. Move this file here. Two years of doing the same job, all in the hopes of being noticed and promoted, had burned the activities into her brain.

But right now that was not all that was burned into Joan’s brain.

She could not escape the image of the steel Helena standing nude and helpless at the gym. How the light had danced across the hardened curves, body heat quickly dissipating into the air. Joan’s body was all a tingle at the very idea that she wielded this power. For once she was in control of something.

And there were a few things on her mind that needed controlling.

The first was her work. Too long she had sat complacently, waiting to be promoted. The problem was her company didn’t have a lot of turnover. Better paying positions opened rarely, and when they did her coworkers were like wild animals fighting over a kill. What most annoyed Joan was that it was often not the most loyal or capable employee who was hired…it was the most conniving.

Like her boss, Gerald.

Gerald had once worked alongside Joan, which is how she knew he wasn’t really the best for the job. He was lazy, relied on others to “help” him finish a project, and was rumored to gave gotten the manager job because he had something on his current boss. Gerald was an awful manager, sleazing around and doing very little.

And Joan wanted his job.

The problem was that, even if Gerald suddenly retired or moved on, there was now someone in Joan’s department even more conniving than Gerald; Cassandra. One of the newest hires to the team, it was rumored she and Gerald were already sleeping together.

In fact, it was rumored that Cassandra was sleeping with most of the men in the company, including Gerald’s boss. It wasn’t hard to believe; although not filled with plastic like Helena, Cassandra’s body wasn’t any less impressive. Given the clothes and shoes she strutted around in there was no mystery about it. Joan wondered if the curly-haired tramp recorded any of her trysts…and when the Executives would find themselves cornered into promoting Cassandra because of a video file.

Joan had put too much time into this job to allow the despicable acts of others to hinder her career path. As the day dragged on and Joan’s muscle memory did its work, the gears were turning in the rest of her head.

Around 4:30 in the afternoon the cursed brunette got up from her desk. Making her way through the cubicles she spotted Cassandra and Gerald by the water cooler, flirting and chatting away. Joan continued along, knowing that sometime soon the Executives would begin stirring from their offices. This would send the two off in separate directions to look busy.

A few minutes later Joan entered the women’s room. It was long and thin, a row of sinks and mirrors on one wall with a row of stalls across from it. She grabbed some paper towels, ripped them up, and began stuffing them into all the sinks accept the far right one, which was butted up against the back wall. Once Joan had filled each sink with a little water she went into the second to last stall. Closing the door she shut the toilet’s lid and sat on the edge.

Joan let out a little breath of excitement and took off her shoes. Placing them slightly behind the toilet bowl so she wouldn’t unintentionally turn them to metal, Joan then removed her right steel stocking. Pulling her skirt back so as not to brush it accidentally Joan crossed her bare foot over her left knee. She desperately wanted to turn something to steel, but didn’t want to transmogrify any of the floor tiles just yet – they were big squares and lacked grout, which she was certain would be obvious and create suspicion in anyone entering.

Looking around the stall she spotted the roll of toilet paper. Removing it from the spindle she gentle unrolled a few squares and tapped the loose end against the side of her toe. She grinned as the silver wave flowed up the freed squares and then began spiraling into the roll itself. The paper was so thin the actual transforming layers were nearly imperceptible, as the paper simply seemed to spin away as the steel whirlpool overtook it. Joan smiled as she placed the heavy, cold roll of metal on the floor.

It was only another moment before the restroom door opened. Joan bent down a little and spotted Cassandra’s shoes; bright red four-inch heels that complimented her deep mocha skin. As the brunette had predicted the slut passed by all the sinks with backed-up water and went to the sink on the far end of the wall.

Standing, Joan flushed the toilet, pretended to pull her skirt and panties up, and opened the stall door. Her presence didn’t disturb Cassandra, who was busy primping herself at the mirror. The curvy hourglass was pulling her already small and tight skirt a little further up, showing the very bottom curve of her round ass. This was followed by an adjustment of her bra and blouse, to be certain that plenty of cleavage was showing. Her eyes never left the mirror, and didn’t notice the trail of steel tiles that Joan’s right foot – the one closest to Cassandra – had left behind it.

“So, where are you going after work?” Joan asked, slowly washing her hands. Cassandra sighed as she opened her purse, as if acknowledging Joan’s question was too much effort for her.

“Sparrow’s Nest,” Cassandra replied, applying some mascara. Her voice could not have sounded more put-upon, “I don’t think it’s quite your speed.”

“Really?” Joan pressed, watching very carefully for the perfect moment. “Why so?”

“Well,” Cassandra replied as she placed the mascara down and pulled out a stick of bright lipstick, “You just don’t look like you can party all that hard.”

Cassandra opened the lipstick, spun a little out, and leaned far forward towards the mirror. She puckered up her lips like a big kiss and was about to bring the red stick to her face when she felt something brush her ankle.

And she couldn’t move.

Cassandra’s initial moment of confusion meant she didn’t see Joan walk behind the slowly metamorphosing woman and touch her big toe to both red shoes. The small objects washed away the garish red and became steel just as Cassandra’s skin was beginning to pale to the silver metal. The trapped woman had no choice but to stare into the mirror and watch as her hair began to bend under the growing weight of metal. She could feel her body continue to alter, and almost cried as she saw her pigment switch to the steel gray.

Joan could not have been more pleased. The metal heels were supporting Cassandra’s statuefied weight, and the bitch seemed to be perfectly balanced. The hand not holding up the lipstick was just a few inches from her hip. Mixed with the ridiculous metal pucker locked on Cassandra’s lips she looked very sassy, especially with the unchanged mascara still adorning her eyes.

Joan worked quickly before anyone else – leaving at a normal time – could enter. She undid the steel woman’s skirt and ripped it off at the seem, revealing a string thong held between her metal ass-cheeks. Balancing herself on the sink Joan lifted up her foot and the thong joined Cassandra in stainless steel eternity. The brunette also pulled off the silently-screaming woman’s shirt and, with much more effort, transformed her bra as well. Joan popped the lipstick out of Cassandra’s stiff grip and replaced it after turning it, too, to gray metal – but not before she applied some on her own lips.

Satisfied with the details of the statue posed before her Joan paused to take it all in. Cassandra was beautiful, a woman forevermore getting ready for a date. The glisten of the hard UV lights on her metal back and the lines of the brassiere and thong were incredible. Her breasts hung from her chest and slightly bulged as they just lightly rested on the horizontal bra cups. Joan felt herself getting excited again and tried to keep focused…if all went to plan she’d have the opportunity to tend between her legs later.

Going back to the stall Joan put her metal stocking and shoes on, then gathered up Cassandra’s belongings. She removed all forms of identification and cash and threw the rest in the trash. She fished the wet paper towels out of the sinks and used them to make sure no one would notice the disposed personal items in the bin. Her plan complete, the brunette gave herself a little clap.

“Well, Cassandra, I guess now you see exactly how hard my party is.”

And with that Joan left the bathroom.

Cassandra, of course, could do nothing but stare at her unbelievable – but undeniable – fate until the motion sensors turned out the lights on her.

Back at her desk Joan drafted a quick email, making it look as if she was forwarding something from the office building personnel about the installment of some new art-deco inspired decorations. Smiling at her craftiness Joan sent it, shut her station down, and left.

It didn’t take long for the cursed woman to walk to Sparrow’s Nest. It had a waiting line out the door but Joan simply went around back, found a busboy smoking out the kitchen door, planted a big red kiss on him, and walked inside without an issue.

Inside, the plotting brunette was in no way surprised to see Gerald had already bribed his way past the line. He was seated at a corner of the larger bar, flirting with two scantily dressed tramps, but clearly checking the door and his watch for someone. There was a smaller bar on the other side of the room and Joan walked over to it. She knew what she wanted to do but would need a few drinks first.

Gerald was not an unattractive man, but after hating him for so long Joan needed a little whiskey to get past that. After a few shots she was ready.

“She’s not coming,” the employee announced from behind the boss, clearly startling Gerald. He turned around, his face a mix of anger, fear, and embarrassment. He didn’t know what Joan knew and didn’t know how to react.

“Who’s…not coming?” the dark-haired man asked slowly. He shifted in his seat, his naturally trim torso clearly showing the tension rippling through his body.

“Cassandra,” Joan smiled, stepping forward until one of Gerald’s knees was touching the inside of her thigh, “She sends her apologies…and me.”

“I’m afraid I-”

Joan interrupted Gerald by pushing further forward – if earlier she had been almost in his lap she was definitely there now. The man didn’t seem to know what to do.

“I know about you and Cassandra…and I know what you like her to do to you,” Joan lied breathily into her boss’ ear, “…she showed me a few of the things you like…we were at work testing positions in the restroom…should we go find one here and see if I’m a good student or a bad one?”

Gerald’s mind seemed to have skipped a little. He knew nothing Joan was saying made any sense…Cassandra wouldn’t give this woman the time of day, let alone…but on the other hand, where was Cassandra? And how did Joan know where to find him? But there were more attractive women here, in sluttier outfits…but this was the one already in his lamp…but-

As is the case with many men, when the brain finds itself incapable of applying logic to sex, the penis finally got impatient and made the executive decision to go with the woman already grinding her leg against it.

Joan led the space-eyed Gerald away from the bar and to one of the many small personal bathrooms that ran across the back of the complex. Joan couldn’t really hold her whiskey, and the man trailing behind her had drank a few himself, so their path was slightly zig-zagged.

Once in the tiny room Joan pushed Gerald onto the closed toilet and made her demand; “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Her boss was only too happy to comply, quickly undoing his belt and zipper as Joan removed a shoe. Gerald didn’t have any problem stiffening up as the woman before him slid off the weirdest looking stocking he had ever seen. With his boxers and pants pushed down around his thighs Gerald looked over and give a dirty grin as he held his dick up from his lap to show it off.

“What do you think of this, honey?”

“Perfect, hold it right there,” Joan grinned herself, and she tapped a toe to Gerald’s thigh.

With haste the cursed woman slipped the steel stocking back on. Once she was certain she wouldn’t turn anything else to metal she violently pushed down her skirt and damp panties, which clung to her quivering cleft for a moment thanks to her own juices. Gerald’s rigid body was still mostly flesh and she wanted to feel him change inside her. Her legs were quickly straddling him and she pushed her dripping snatch down onto his raised phallus.

“Oh, yes!” Joan moaned as she felt the frozen features of Gerald’s shaft rub her insides. His body was still warm, but as she pumped up and down atop him Joan could feel the cold chill of steel rising from within him. Soon his fake tan was gone, and the cool transforming wave sent a chill up the bouncing brunette. She was dripping more than enough juices to stay slick along the steel shaft, and she quickly discovered something amazing; Gerald had frozen with his thumb resting on top of his rod, near the base of his dick. Although Joan had to bite back a small amount of pain, if she pushed down hard enough the end of his thick thumb would push through her engorged nether lips into another engorged piece of her anatomy.

It was the most amazing thing Joan had ever experienced. And as her toes curled in her steel encased stockings, her back arched, her hardened nipples pushed violently against the interior of her bra, and her lips parted, “orgasm” wouldn’t come close to properly describing the sensation that ripped through the brunette’s spasming body.

No sound could match it either, and although Joan’s mouth was wide open she emitted no noise.

Nearly passing out, Joan fell forward against the metal form of Gerald as her experience ebbed. Her hands gripping weakly at the fabric shirt. She was exhausted, and her body radiated a warm satisfaction she wanted to revel in, but it was uncomfortable to remain impaled on her steel boss’ dick as she was, and with some effort she got her feet under her. Slowly, the blushing brunette raised herself up, feeling the suck of her vaginal recesses unwilling to give up the thick dick they were wrapped around. Finally coming off with what was almost an audible pop Joan took a few steps back on shaking legs and admired the glisten of Gerald’s cock – a radiant combination of polished metal and wet surfaces.

Taking deep breaths as she composed herself Joan pulled her panties and skirt back up and re-shoed herself. She fished out Gerald’s wallet and took his IDs and cash. Hastily she pulled or ripped the statue’s clothes off it, balling them up and pushing them as far into the bathroom’s trash as she dared. Looking to her reflection Joan straightened her clothes and tried to tame her wild hair before giving up and waltzing, with a satisfied grin on her face, out into the bar.

Gerald, still grinning himself, wondered when someone would come back and finish getting him off. His actual fate wouldn’t sink in until later.

Out in the bar Joan decided to take another shot to celebrate, paying with her steel boss’ own cash. Then she got another. Realizing too late how quickly it was going to go to her head on an empty stomach Joan stumbled outside.

She wanted to go home and experiment a little.

She was definitely drunk…and getting drunker.

Where is – her car was at work – damn!

She wanted to go home now.

She shouldn’t drive anyway.

She needed a – “TAXI!”

Starting to feel sick in backseat.

Arrived finally.




More stumbling.



The soft plunk as one shoe falls from her dangling feet to the carpet below.

Tune in next week for Part III!