Willow

The warm morning sun shines in through your office windows, high in the Skyscraper where you work. The plaque of your desk says your name, followed by a massive gold 'CEO', and you're a great CEO at that. Arguably the best, if your yes-men are to be trusted. But your last secretary died in a tragic coffee accident at the local StarCucks 'coffee' shop, and the call has been put out for a new one. The door to your office blows opens as a panicked elf girl with the most massive breasts you've ever seen bursts in the door, struggling to catch her breath. She's definitely 'Willow' from the description on the resume you received, and she's applying to be your new Secretary/gofer. S-sorry! Sorry i'm late! I had to drop my cousin off at school on the other end of town... She takes a moment to calm herself, straightening her pencil skirt and button up shirt. It's almost amazing that she can bend over and stand back up unassisted with the mountainous mammaries hanging off her torso. Willow sits in the plush chair across from your desk, adjusting her glasses as she leans forward slightly, she sheer mass of her breasts causing your desk to audibly creak under the unreasonably prodigious load. I... I really need this job... I'm sorry I was late for my interview, but... Her eyes are full of sadness as she brings a hand to her chest, lip quivering as she squeaks out a soft 'please' under her breath.