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Inside Job for Two	By : GrayNeko Category: -Misc Cartoons > General Views: 1316 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This work is a parody. I do not own Inside Job or any of the characters that belong to the series. No money was made from this story.

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Reagan was breathing hard and her legs burned. Sweat beaded all over her body and her clothes clung almost tightly to her frame. Why was she running? Was she being chased?

Her pace slowed as she came to an open spot along the path she’d been running down and she unzipped the jacket she was wearing as she began to stretch. In the back of her mind, Reagan suddenly realized this was a dream, but even with that awareness, she couldn’t change anything about it.

A man suddenly appeared on the path, a moderately well cut thirty-something with a goatee in a sweat-soaked gray shirt and black jogger shorts. His eyes locked onto Reagan the moment he came into view and his pace slowed as he joined her in stretching.

“You know, you really make a guy work for it,” he said as he came up right behind her and pressed his hands to the small of his back, thrusting his hips forward.

“Well, if they aren’t willing to put in the work, then they don’t deserve the prize,” Reagan heard herself say as she bent down to touch her toes and not only was able to do it, but leaned back to bump her ass against the man’s crotch!

The man’s hands grabbed Reagan’s hips, pulling against his straining erection as he began to grind against her.

“You’re about to get a prize of your own, lucky lady!” the man said as he pulled aside the bottom of her one piece jogging outfit and freed his cock.

“Yessss, fucking give me that prize!” Reagan panted as she braced her hands on her knees while this complete stranger began railing her.

Reagan panted as she felt her breasts sway and bounce and she realized they were much bigger in this dream. Her head was yanked back roughly as he grabbed her ponytail and Reagan was surprised at how good the sharp pain felt. Her elation increased as another man came around the corner. The newcomer froze at the sight of them but as she managed to flash him a smile and beckon him with a finger, he strode closer with an excited swagger.

“Mmhhmmm!” Reagan moaned as a cock slid past her lips and she was quickly being bounced back and forth by a cock on either end.

“And to think I almost skipped jogging this morning!” the newcomer said with a laugh that dissolved into a moan as Reagan deep-throated his cock.

The two men took turns railing her pussy and mouth as Reagan coaxed them to get rougher and thrust harder. Finally she was pushed down onto her knees as both men stood over her, guiding her hands to jerk them off. They groaned and thrust their hips as they finally came, spraying strands of cum all over Reagan’s face.

Reagan smiled beneath the coating of cum and then her eyes opened. She was in her bed and a hand snapped up to her face, relieved to find her face merely sweaty and not covered in cum.

“What the fuck!” Reagan breathed as she sat up. She didn’t need to jam a hand down her pajamas to know her panties were soaked. She hadn’t had a wet dream like that since…ever!

Reagan got out of bed with a groan. Weird, fucked up sex dreams were bad enough, but did they have to make her actually feel tired too? She made her way to her work desk and booted up her computer.

A flashing file icon made her breath hitch. It was the footage of a spybot she had built once she realized she’d been blacking out and losing time, that way she could try to figure out what was happening to her. Swallowing nervously, Reagan opened the file and sat back as the footage autoplayed.

The video started with her asleep in bed, the timestamp reading 5 am. Reagan watched as she got up and immediately began stretching. Reagan couldn’t remember the last time she’d been up at 5 in the morning, she was more used to going to sleep at that time to grab an hour before getting ready for work. She leaned forward as she watched herself go through a thorough stretching routine and then began getting dressed…into the same skimpy exercise outfit she’d been wearing in her dream.

“Oh god, what is happening?!” Reagan cried out, her blood running cold as the spybot followed her as she left her apartment. One detail made her blink and rewind the footage back to when she was getting dressed. Reagan stared at her naked figure and then looked down at her own body before she cupped her modest B-cup breasts. The Reagan in the recording definitely had bigger tits, not to mention wider hips and a fatter ass. Was that really her?

“Who else would it be?” Reagan said aloud as she looked away, rubbing at her chin ponderingly. The spybot was programmed to track her based on her DNA profile. Whatever was happening to her, that was her.

Moans and the sound of slapping flesh brought her attention back to the video and she nearly retched as she watched herself getting fucked by two complete strangers. She stared, transfixed by the sight and she could have sworn that as this other her went down on her knees, she looked up right into the spybots camera.

“FUCK!” Reagan shouted as she leapt back, falling out of her chair before immediately scrambling back to her desk to see the screen grow dark and turn to static as something took out her spybot, probably a fucking pigeon.

“WHAT THE FU…” Reagan started to say for what must have been the thousandth time since this nightmare had started when another video file suddenly appeared. Reagan’s hand was shaking so badly she nearly couldn’t get the arrow to click on it.

“Hi Reagan,” a recording of Reagan said into her journal camera, though she had no memory of making this video. “I bet you have a lot of questions…”

***

Reagan tried to maintain her composure through the work day, but every moment she was alone, she was scouring security footage from the past several months. The video this other her had left for Reagan hadn’t answered nearly as many questions as it had raised, and now she was trying to track this slut version of herself movements as best she could.

That led Reagan to finding a truly terrifying number of times that this other persona had taken the wheel of her mind and found some random person to fuck, many right here at Congito!

Watching herself bang countless guys in all manner of positions had nearly caused Reagan to do something drastic, like send the whole place into lockdown and purge the entire workforce, until she realized that she couldn’t remember a single instance of anyone being or saying anything inappropriate around her. True, that could just be because she was the boss and could make anyone disappear with a word, but she knew that a lot of the men that worked here were like JR or her father and wouldn’t hesitate to brag or bring up the fact that they had nailed the boss like she was a back-alley whore.

As the day wore on and she found more and more evidence, the shock of the discovery began to wear thin and in its place, Reagan found illogical arousal growing. She could only imagine what a therapist would say about her getting turned on by pornographic videos starring her that she had no memory of. Still, Reagan was having a hard time denying the heat growing between her legs and it was quickly becoming something she needed to deal with before she lashed out unfairly at an employee.

That was how Reagan found herself in a remote supply closet, her pants and underwear around her knees and her shirt partially undone as she masturbated furiously to another recording of her alter ego while massaging one of her breasts. The closet was filled with the wet ‘schlicks’ of her fingers pumping in and out of her dripping pussy and the audio of the video of her and that strangely handsome janitor that she always thought looked like a young Carl Sagan. The two of them were fucking in a service elevator and Reagan had to bite her lip to keep from crying out and drowning out the grunts and moans of the video.

“Fuck yes, give me that fat nerd cock!” Reagan hoarsely whispered to herself as she thumbed her clit. She was on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm when the door to the supply closet opened.

“FUCK!!” Reagan screamed as she fell back while scrambling to pull her pants back up and cover herself. Cleaning supplies tumbled off shelves in her flailing and left Reagan partially buried.

“Reagan?”

Reagan froze as panic pierced her heart like an icy spear. Why did it have to be him of all people?

“Brett, don’t come in!” Reagan cried out and she suddenly realized she was crying. Tears were spilling from her eyes as terror and shame gripped her and she was still struggling wildly to get her clothes back on.

“Reagan, what the heck are you doing in here?...And what is that?” Brett said, his voice full of confusion and concern as his attention was drawn to her phone where she had set it on one of the closet shelves.

“Oh my god, Reagan, what are you doing to that poor janitor?!” Brett cried out.

“Fucking…dammit!” Reagan said as a sob escaped her. Of all the people she didn’t want seeing her like that, Brett was at the top of her list. If she had been blacksited in that moment, she actually thought she’d be happy, because it would mean escaping this awful situation.

Her phone went silent and a moment later, supplies were being lifted off her. Brett appeared over her, offering his hand to her. Reagan hesitated because she still hadn’t managed to get her pants up or her shirt buttoned, but then she realized Brett had just seen her fucking someone so what was a little awkward nudity at this point.

“Ohhhhhhhhh my,” Brett started as Reagan made it to her feet and he got a good look at the state of her. He was quick to avert his eyes once she was up and Reagan could have kissed him for that little scrap of chivalry.

“How…how did you find me here?” Reagan asked as she finally managed to get herself presentable.

“Uh, well, don’t be mad, but I, uh, had a tracker planted on you so I could find you in case of an emergency, since you’re the boss,” Brett stammered as he tugged at his tie around his neck.

“Is there an emergency?” Reagan asked hopefully. It would be a great distraction from her current situation and then maybe she could pretend this never happened.

“...Not really,” Brett answered after a lengthy pause. “You’ve been acting odd all day and I wanted to make sure you were ok. And, maybe, to make sure it didn’t have anything to do with the kiss after Dave and Buster’s, though, I guess, that…isn’t the case.”

Reagan narrowed her eyes as Brett still refused to look at her even though she was dressed. Was he upset that their kiss wasn’t the reason she’d been having an off day?

And why did she find the idea that he might be jealous–Was that even the right word for this situation? She had no idea–kind of adorable?

“Brett, it’s not what you think,” Reagan said as she gingerly reached out to grip his shoulder and bring his gaze back to her. “But you have to promise not to tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”

Brett looked over his shoulder before reaching back to close the door, leaving them with only Reagan’s phone lighting up the supply closet. Somehow, despite all the awkwardness, Reagan felt a sense of intimateness with it being just the two of them in the cramped, dark space. It added a tinge of red to her cheeks for an entirely different reason.

“Reagan, you know that I’ll always have your back,” Brett said, breaking Reagan out of her momentary reverie.

“Ok, well grab a seat because this is going to sound crazy, even for what happens around here,” Reagan said as she grabbed two buckets, handing one to Brett as she turned hers over and sat on it. Brett settled down and clasped his hands together with his index fingers pointing, his face taking on an unusually serious expression.

“So I’ve never been good with the whole therapy thing,” Reagan began. “Telling someone your secrets, fears, desires, basically anything that could be seen as weakness? In our line of work? That’s just asking to be blackmailed. Now that I’m in charge, it’s been a struggle to keep myself in a good headspace, so I tried to do something about it.”

Reagan paused and looked up to see how Brett was taking all of this and found him watching her with concern, his brow tented as he tried not to frown.

“I found an old project that supposedly could be used to cure or cause depression in a subject. One more way for Cognito to control people, I guess. I ran the numbers, tweaked the formula and tried it.”

“But Reagan, why?” Brett suddenly said as he reached out to grip her hand comfortingly. “Why use yourself as a guinea pig? And why not tell me sooner?”

“Because I was sick of being…me,” Reagan admitted softly, her grip on Brett’s hand tightening. “You’ve stepped up in a big way, Brett, and I didn’t want to put anymore on you.

“When nothing happened after I began the treatment, I thought it must have been why the project had been shelved. Months went by and I sort of forgot about the whole thing, then the dreams began. I started having really fucked up sex dreams, like shit that would make Gigi blush, and that quickly spiralled into daydreams and lost time. I don’t remember going to Dave and Busters, Brett. Whoever you were partying with…..that wasn’t me,” Reagan said with a deep huff. She glanced up as Brett’s other hand enveloped hers and felt her breath hitch at the look on his face.

Brett Hand, for working at a company that dealt in secrets and subterfuge, was a surprisingly open book. In that moment, it was a blessing because Reagan knew that the sadness in his eyes wasn’t merely disappointment. Somehow she knew Brett was heartbroken that the person he had been having such a good time with hadn’t been his best friend.

“Oooooooookaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy, that’s a lot to take in,” Brett said slowly as he processed everything, “buuuuuuuuut it doesn’t explain what I just saw on your phone.”

Brett reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone, holding it out to her. Reagan took it and quickly pulled up a different video, turning the screen towards Brett as she looked away.

“Hi, Reagan. I bet you have a lot of questions,” the video began and Reagan squeezed her eyes shut as she balled her other hand into a fist. “Well, I don’t have a lot of answers. I guess I’m a ‘byproduct’ of that depression treatment, which is weird because DID was not one of the original side-effects. Maybe your tweaking had an unintended outcome, not that I’m blaming you or saying you should blame yourself. I’m happy to exist and I want you to know that I’ll look out for both of us, just while having some harmless fun.”

“Since neither of us knows what went wrong, I’m going to ask you to not try to fix this. You could really hurt yourself and neither of us wants that. I know you have a lot of responsibilities now and I also know the last thing you want people to think is that you’re having a mental breakdown like Rand. Feel free to keep monitoring me with your spybots though, I like to be watched. Oh and tell Brett thanks for following through on that kiss!”

The video stopped and Reagan nearly threw her phone as tears began to bead in the corners of her eyes.

“GODDAMNIT!!! She’s fucking right! I can’t do anything about her without potentially turning myself into a vegetable!” Reagan shouted at the floor. A hand on her shoulder made her open her eyes slowly.

“So what do we do, boss?” Brett asked softly as he smiled reassuringly.

Reagan was so overwhelmed by everything that she did something completely unexpected, she pulled Brett into a hug. Brett stiffened, remembering the last time that they had tried to hug, but as Reagan clung to him, he slowly enveloped her in his arms and held her as she sobbed quietly into his shoulder.

Reagan would have happily stayed like that for as long as she could but in her wild flailing hug, she had opened a different video file and the supply closet was filled with the sounds of her moaning and flesh slapping. Reagan pulled away from Brett as she scrambled to silence her phone and once she had finally managed to pause the video, the atmosphere had gone back to being awkward.

“Ok, so not trying to get hit or anything, but why were you…like…how I found you, when I found you?” Brett asked, cringing slightly as he blushed.

“So much for not going to therapy,” Reagan muttered before sighing. “I’ve been trying to track this other me’s movements to see how long she’s been active and she’s been very busy and…I don’t know, watching all of this footage of me…having sex, enjoying myself, being confident, it started to get to me and the next thing I know, I’m fingerbanging myself in a supply closet like I’m Andre or something.”

“No, if you were Andre, your belt would be around your neck too,” Brett said with a laugh before growing somber. “I’ve caught him doing that more than a couple of times, it’s actually quite troubling.”

Reagan couldn’t help laughing before she spotted something that cut her laughter short. She brushed her hair over her ear as her blush deepened and she coughed, “Ahem, so it looks like I’m not the only one who needs a supply closet.”

Brett raised an eyebrow in confusion before he followed Reagan’s line of sight towards his crotch and the tent in his pants. He leapt to his feet in alarm.

“Woah, no, no that is not what it looks like! That is just what pants do sometimes when…” Brett tried to say only for the tent to grow more prominent, the bulge shifting about as he tried to hide it.

“Brett, it’s ok. I’ve seen you naked before, an erection doesn’t make that much of a difference,” Reagan said as she straightened up, not sure why his awkwardness was emboldening her. “It probably would be better for us to go back to work with clearer heads and neither of us can do that until we get some…release.”

Brett froze before narrowing his eyes, “You’re still you, right, Reagan?”

“Yes, it’s still me!” Reagan snapped before giving herself a shake. “Look, I didn’t get to finish before you came in and you clearly need to deal with that, so why don’t we-”

“Have sex?!” Brett asked incredulously.

“What?! No! Fucking masturbate!” Reagan shouted. “Jesus Christ, Brett, why would you think, after seeing how freaked I am by seeing myself fucking who know how many guys, that I would want to have more sex?”

“I don’t know!” Brett yelled back as he began to panic and backed up until he reached the closet door. “You were being really flirty all of a sudden and I can’t stop thinking about that kiss! I had no idea where you were going with that! Why is masturbating more acceptable and do you mean together while we’re in the same room?!”

“Yes, I mean together while we’re both in here!” Reagan shouted as she followed Brett so she was right in his face, though she had no idea why she was being so aggressive. “And because it’s fucking HOT, that’s why! Now, do you want to watch another video of me getting plowed or not?!”

“Yes, please!” Brett screamed before Reagan grabbed his tie and dragged him back to the buckets. He sat down automatically as she brought up another video and set her phone down on a shelf, propped up against some cleaning supplies.

Reagan did not sit on her bucket, instead she leaned on the opposite shelf as she undid her pants once more and pushed her soaked panties down. She was keenly aware of Brett sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye but he had also freed his cock through his fly and was slowly stroking his cock as the video showed Reagan walking up to a woman and cupping her ass.

“Is that Tina from accounting?” Brett asked quietly as the woman turned and kissed Reagan before Reagan pushed her down onto a table and ripped her blouse open. “I thought you hated her.”

“I hate her, unph, budget cuts, mhmm, more than anything,” Reagan said as she slid her fingers up and down her labia before curling them inside her. “But I can’t deny those stupid huge tits she has. God, no wonder JR was so desperate to make her happy.”

“I didn’t realize you swung that way,” Brett said as he became more engrossed in the video, his strokes growing faster.

“I don’t?” Reagan said, though watching the video did have her questioning many things, her sexuality least among them. “That’s not me, remember.”

“Riiiiiight,” Brett said absently as the Reagan in the video ate Tina out with a gusto. A shadow fell over both women and they looked up as a man stepped into the camera’s view.

“Oh god, is that the mail clerk?” Reagan groaned, though she didn’t slow in fingering herself. In fact, she worked a breast free of her bra and began tweaking her nipple as the women in the video turned their attention to the newcomer and got on their knees as he pulled out his cock.

“He definitely has a package to deliver,” Brett quipped, though his tone was one of respect as Reagan and Tina took turns blowing him and kissing each other, even pleasuring the cock between their lips.

Reagan didn’t have a response, snarky or otherwise, as her eyes wandered towards Brett’s cock. His helmet glistened in the light from the video and Reagan couldn’t help noticing it was nearly as big as it had been in her hallucinations. She bit her lip as she began to recall how it had felt being shoved down her throat before giving herself a shake. That hadn’t happened…though, the thought of making it a reality had her heart pounding until Reagan closed her eyes and threw her head back as she moaned wildly.

“Fuck, this is so hot!” Brett panted, though Reagan had no idea he was watching her more than the video.They both groaned as they began to cum, Brett grabbing for a box of tissues as he did.

Reagan lurched forward, blindly fumbling for her phone and managing to shut it off as she trembled with orgasmic pleasure. She clung to the shelf as she panted, her legs on the verge of giving out.

“Huh, wow, that was…that was-” Brett breathed.

“Fucking amazing!” Reagan moaned as she pushed off the shelf and looked at Brett.

Brett managed a weak smile as he hurriedly tucked his cock back in his pants.

“I don’t remember you ever being so gunshy, Brett,” Reagan said, riding the afterglow of her orgasm and not even minding that her tit was hanging out or her pants were still around her knees.

“Casual nudity is a very case by case thing for me,” Brett said as he tried to keep his eyes from lingering on Reagan too long.

“Well, I hope you feel better because I feel fucking great!” Reagan said as she began to fix her clothes. She paused sorting herself as she glanced at Brett, “Heeeeeeey, Brett, could we…make this a semi-regular thing while I try to sort this ‘other me’ thing out?”

Brett’s jaw dropped almost in slow motion before he gave his head a shake. “Uhm, yeah, that works for me. And, Reagan, if you need me to do anything else to help, just ask, ok?”

Reagan smiled as she reached out and patted his shoulder, “Thanks, Brett. Why don’t you head out now? I’ll wait a few minutes and get back to my office.”

“Ok, and please, Reagan, keep me in the knows on your…situation,” Brett said before cracking the door open and peeking to make sure the coast was clear.

Once he was gone, Reagan sank down onto a bucket. The high was starting to wear off and what she had just done was starting to dawn on her. Before panic could truly set in, Reagan spotted a crumpled wad of tissues on a shelf, Brett’s wad. Her hand was moving before she realized what she was doing and she brought the damp clump of cum and tissues up to her face.

The memory of her hallucinations played out in her head and she inhaled deeply, taking in the sharp odor of Brett’s cum. She let out a ragged sigh as the smell sent fire racing through her neurons, cementing the odor in her brain forever.

“Oh, god, what the fuck is wrong with me?” Reagan moaned as she let her hand drop and her head fall back. She got up and checked to make sure the hallway was empty before slipping out, not even noticing that she had pocketed Brett’s cum soaked tissues as she went.

***
Notes
***
This work was made in collaboration with MrSwindle94 - https://twitter.com/MrSwindle94?s=20&t=g-aZ0ecX70kvzyTWS0Linw
We also had a cover made for our story by the awesome NSFAni and Swindle colored it: https://x.com/MrSwindle94/status/1708588498230382849?s=20
Review Response and Discussion Thread: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/57397-graynekos-review-response-and-discussion-thread/
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Inside Job for Two