Office Turned Tradwife

I’m Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, and I’m obsessed with a mortal man.

In my infinite wisdom, I absorbed the powers of Lust herself. The Fates warned me this path would end with me on my knees before Wes, a mortal man so utterly unremarkable that pigeons ignore him.

Ridiculous. Impossible. I’m a goddess.

But, one shouldn’t ignore the fates—it’s poor manners. So I hatched the perfect plan: transform his ex-girlfriend Vanessa into such an exquisite, obedient, domestically-gifted beauty that Wes would never look beyond her. Problem solved, fate averted.

Except now Vanessa runs a billion-dollar empire as his devoted trophy wife. Her sister Violet and best friend Amy have joined his… collection. And I’ve just filled an entire office tower with the most brilliant, gorgeous, busty women in existence—each one competing with graceful desperation for a glance from a man who can barely remember to put on pants. They used to be independent; brilliant feminist minds who knew no man could hold them down. Now, they pray to be held down, thrown to their knees, and overpowered by the only man alive that matters.

The worst part? I can’t stop. Every hour I spend invisible in that office, watching these perfect creatures worship him, I feel it—the Lust coursing through my divine veins like liquid fire. I tell myself I’m doing this to distract him, to keep him satisfied so he never thinks to challenge me.

But when I’m alone, fingers buried deep inside, channeling the universe’s entire supply of desire into fantasies of his pleasure… I know the truth is far more dangerous.

I’m falling. And I’m taking all of Love and Lust down with me.

This is supposed to be just another day. A few hours watching my perfect harem in action, making small adjustments, ensuring everything runs smoothly. Vanessa in her tailored pencil skirts and silk blouses, managing his empire with ruthless efficiency. The other girls in their elegant designer dresses, competing for his attention with smoldering glances and domestic perfection. I tell myself it’s strategy. That I’m simply giving him what losers like him want—a harem of devoted, fertile beauties who dress like they stepped out of his adolescent fantasies. That by drowning him in feminine adoration, he’ll never think to challenge me.

I’m a goddess. I’m in control.

I’m lying to myself.

WARNING: This story contains scenes of INTENSE kink and bimbofication, mind control, lactation erotica, and the delicious humiliation of a self-righteous feminist.