This disclaimer must
be read before reading further:
The following story
is fictional and contains explicit pornographic material; it is not for minors
or the close-minded.
Alex Streuth is the pseudonym of the author and a fictional
character sometimes used in these stories.
Any characters, places, businesses and/or circumstances etc. described
herein are entirely fictional. None of
the following is based on real organisms or organizations, and any semblance to
anyone or anything real, living, deceased or imaginary, is purely coincidental.
This story is
copyrighted (July 2005) by the author with permission granted only for personal
use; it may not be redistributed or posted unless authorized by the
author. The author may be contacted at streuthanasia@gmail.com
The author cannot be
responsible for the existence or delivery of any content which some may find
offensive; reader be warned, by continuing further with this document you agree
not to hold any party responsible for the delivery or existence of its
contents.
Due to the nature of
the following material (themes listed at end to preserve suspense) the author
advises anyone who has stumbled across this document by mistake to destroy it
or delete it.
Thank you and enjoy
the following quality presentation.
---
Office Mascot
Self Promotion
She
was very skinny, and was such a small
girl that she couldn’t wear women’s sizes – despite being eighteen -- and had
to shop in the girl’s section. Despite
this anorexic slightness (you could see her ribs) her tits were ripe and full,
obviously implanted into her ultra petit form.
Her buxom rack jutted out from her chest like overinflated
volleyballs, it was a sign of her impetuousness that on her 18th
birthday she had run out and gotten herself ‘done.’ Where before she had been a measly B cup she
now looked down on any woman with less than a D as inferior:
Her name
was Jess, she spent her days at an office, sitting at a desk, answering the
phone in an annoyed voice, and looking around at her co-workers with an
ungrateful attitude that belied her resentment at being forced to do secretarial
work, knowing that if she just flashed a smile and showed some cleavage to the
right executive she was sure to get a promotion.
--
Today she
came into work and noticed that everyone was ignoring her, which was fine with
her because, as far as she could tell, all of her co-workers were male and all
of them tended to stare just a little too long when they walked by. She sat down at her desk, her huge fake tits
jutting out to rest on it.
She looked
around at her co-workers, who were, up until a moment ago, scoping out her tits
and ass, but were now busily pretending to look for things about the room. More men, hearing that she had arrived, poked
their heads into the small room where her office was located; she glared at
them, daring them to come in.
--
Her boss
had told her at their initial interview, after she had dropped her pen under
his desk and crawled under to get it, “I’m sure we can,” her mouth full of his
cock, “we can, work something out . . .
after ahhhh-ahhhhh . . . after all.”
He had not mentioned that she would be working out of the supply closet.
--
If she fell
asleep at her desk, as she sometimes did in the afternoon, she would wake up
suddenly, swearing she had just felt someone touching her. When she then jerked her head around, she
would see a lot of male employees who had ‘all needed to get pens’ at the same
time. They told her it took them longer
to find what they needed when she wasn’t able to help them.
Her
official title was “Executive Supply Manager,” which meant that any employee
could enter her ‘office’ at any time and demand that she get him any supply,
and, invariably, they always needed the ones that were on the top shelves, the
ones that she had to reach up on her tippy-toes to
get.
When she made
personal phone calls, which she did during her lunch break or whenever she
thought no one was around, she would lock the door and then relax in the
privacy of the closed room. What she
didn’t realize was that all of her conversations could be heard and all of her
angles captured by the ‘loss-prevention’ system that had been installed in her
room.
Whenever
she said “Oh my gawd, like totally,” to her friends,
or twirled her hair, a company executive could hear and see everything she
did. In fact the loss-prevention system
was so complete a small ‘desk’ cam had been installed which ensured that no one
would try to steal anything by sneaking it out from underneath of Jess’s skirts.
--
Today,
though, something unusual happened: A
squat man with bespeckled eyes and an impish
expression waddled up to her and asked her to bend over.
“What the fuck?!”
She blurted out, giving him a mean look.
He showed
her his ID, indicating that he was on the medical staff, and said “Flu
season.” It was with a sulking face that
the young blonde let herself be up-ended.
As she bent over the desk, grabbing her legs at the technician’s
insistence, she felt a little prick in her tight bum. She then felt the man rub his hands over her
miniskirt, fumbling to get it back down again – and being awfully clumsy about
it.
She snapped
up, snarling at him and he hurriedly waddled off. Jess glowered at him. “Like what the fuck is wrong with him?” She
asked her nearby co-workers, who up until a moment ago had been staring at her
ass but now had gone back to ‘looking for blue pens.’
Jess felt a
little drowsy, that flu-shot had hurt . . . she closed her eyes a little, her
tight little super-stacked form buckling a bit.
She knocked a pen over while struggling to retain her stance and then
bent back over at the waist as her leaden arms fumbled around a little trying
to pick it back up. Her miniskirt rode
up on her backside until it came up over her butt and sat up on the small of
her back, where it then rested, exposing her cameltoed
twat to the room.
--
She felt so
tired, she slowed her gum-chewing and let her head fall down to rest, her hands
hanging limp and her loose cleavage spilling out, causing her co-workers to all
resume their staring. She rested there
for a moment, getting ready for the monstrous fight with gravity, but too tired
to stagger back up to her seat. Instead
her miniskirt sashayed as she glided her butt into her chair. Not bothering to try to straighten up, her
back unable to deal with it, she let her body remain bent forward, only
partially restored to her prior sitting height.
She spun
idly in her chair, her co-workers all busying themselves again but then turning
a little when they noticed that she was not looking, her head was hanging down
-- pointed at the ground. They studied
the little private area her miniskirt presented to everyone as her relaxing
legs spread lewdly out -- further, further -- until they touched the sides of
the chair. Her body was perfectly
relaxed, her muscles at ease . . .
--
The sudden
appearance of a foot caused her to jerk her head up but her long blonde hair
cascaded down her face as she did so, hiding her drooping eyes from view and
framing her exposed cleavage adoringly.
“Ftttt” she managed, trying to blow her bangs out of her
eyes. She couldn’t see too well with it
in her face so she closed her eyes, a hand reaching down to pet her head softly
as, slowly, she let her mind drift away and her body fall asleep.
Her first Promotion
Jess awoke with a ring gag
stretched into her mouth. She widened her eyes in distress. She tried to move her arms but, she was
horrified to discover, they had been amputated at the elbow! She flailed about in panic and terror; her
legs had been amputated at the knee! She
tried to scream but all that escaped was a little gurgle, she was unable to
make a noise much louder than that of a low mewl or moan. Looking around in panic she saw a note which
said:
DUTIES of the Office Mascot
:
Noon:
LUNCH
A pair of arms
coaxed her gently forward out of her
chair until she was on the ground. A
training collar was affixed to her neck and she was pulled forward. She had to walk on all fours like a dog with
her amputated stumps, and she cried in humiliation as she was led into the
conference room.
Her tits
were sore and she noticed that they were larger than they had been, small marks indicated where recent surgery must have
been performed to enlarge them from her previously gaudy E cup to their current
cumbersome FF cups.
When she
‘walked’ her back was not straight but was angled upwards, so that her ‘hind’
legs were lower than her ‘front’ legs:
While her
arms had been cut at the elbows, very little of her thighs had been left,
making her body angled so that her gigantic tits did not rub on the ground when
she walked. This also put her head well
below the height of the average standing human’s waist.
--
In the
conference room she was led to the front of the room to sit next to the
President of the Company: “Ahh our honored guest has arrived.” Jess looked up in bewilderment at him. “My dear you have been promoted, and one of
your new duties is to give a report to the board of directors. Let’s get you up onto your podium.”
Jess was
hefted up onto the table by her massive tits, which were the easiest part of
her to grab. The two men lifting her sat
her down on the table and moved her head towards the podium she would be
‘reciting’ from. She realized in horror
that they were going to place her head inside
of the box that greeted her; the soft-leather that disguised it was really just
a mock-covering placed over one end of it.
Her head
was guided up to and then placed into
the leather’s center, where the covering parted and let Jess’s head enter like
a straw going into a cup-lid. She
noticed with concern that her hair did not act to disturb her passage, and as
she searched her peripheral vision and concentrated on her insertion she realized
that her head must now be completely bald.
(She didn’t seem as upset about that considering that her mind was still
in shock from the fact that she was missing her hands and feet!)
Her neck
now firmly in place, Jessica protested wildly:
Her body tried its best to struggle, flailing softly with its
latex-bound stumps on the smooth table’s surface. She let out a low “Mewrmf;”
as loud of a sound as she could manage from inside the box.
“Now now Jess, don’t get ahead of yourself girl, the paper
hasn’t even been put in front of you yet.”
The front of the box was slid away, revealing Jess’s face to the crowd
of executives who had gathered in front of her.
She opened her eyes wide at them and pleaded with them: “Please, please help me,” although with the
ring gag in her mouth it came out more like “Phlah, phlah hah mah!”
--
A piece of
soft, latex-like ‘paper’ (the morning report) was placed over the front of the
box, covering Jess’s face and stretching a little as it did so. As it was moved close to her face Jess
noticed suspiciously that it also had a small cup-lid like opening, albeit a
much smaller one than the one her neck had gone through, which was pushed right
up next to her ring gag. The rubbery
‘paper’ was secured to the box and made it difficult for Jess to breathe, the
tight plastic fabric also made her face hot and uncomfortable. She felt suddenly
claustrophobic.
Next her black
latex miniskirt was flipped up in back to let her newly blown up bubble-butt –
thanks in part to a reverse liposuction -- and angry red twat get a ‘good view
of the room.’ The newly exposed parts of
her anatomy were the sudden subject of soft discussion by the gentlemen
executives still sitting around the large oval table.
--
The
President unzipped and shoved his cock through
the rubbery bright yellow
latex-like ‘paper’ covering which had been stretched over Jess’s face. He let out a contented sigh as his manhood
entered the box, passing gently through the soft stock of the report and then
into the ring-gag that stretched Jess’s mouth.
His hands now resting firmly on the table, he crammed his manhood into
Jess’s face until his balls rested on the report’s soft rubbery surface. He looked straight ahead at the other
businessman as he then said: “This meeting will come to order.”
--
One by one
the men took turns speaking, each one eager to come up to the front to make a
point about a business projection or present a new idea. Each one was given a few minutes of time at
the head of the table, shoving his cock into Jess’s unwilling mouth before
being allowed to speak about the company.
Most of the board members were eager for their turns and invariably
talked about how good of a job the President of the company was doing.
When a
board member finished his delivery Jess was forced to swallow his emissions
before the next man began his speech:
shoving his cock down Jess’s throat beginning -- causing her to gag and
choke.
Every time
she stopped ‘reading’ (making noise in a reading rhythm) she was stung by a
small sharp object – thrust forcefully into her titflesh
– which caused her to quickly resumed her recital of the day’s business
plan. After each man had had his fill
she was quickly removed from the table and released onto the floor. Her head finally having being released from
that ghastly box she gulped the fresh, cool air.
--
The
President congratulated Jess on her job performance and then impressed upon her
the importance of her new position; she looked up at him, up at his legs anyway
-- the highest point she could see on him from the floor was about up to his
thighs -- in confusion and terror as he showered her with accolades. She was presented the new job title of
“Office Mascot” -- which had been embroidered onto a blindfold which he then
slipped onto her head.
Such was
the custom make of this tight band of rubbery cloth that it needed not to be
fastened, but instead stayed on through its snugness. Each of the men clapped as she was officially
recognized in her new post:
Each man
came up to congratulate her on her new place in the company. They showed their affection by slapping one
of Jess’s humongous tits or pinching or pulling on a nipple. Her bound eyes could not see anything as a
line of anonymous men made their way up to her to tug at her body and proke and prod, each one murmuring a ‘Congratulations’ as
he tested the resiliency of her new implants.
After each man had had the opportunity to meet the new mascot business
abruptly resumed as usual.
--
Jess was
quickly forgotten as the heads of the company resumed their serious
discussions. The blind-folded girl was
prodded and poked to encourage her to crawl towards the center of the underside
of the table. The floor became sleek and
slippery, and also angled downwards, as she crawled away from the man poking
her. After a few more clumsy steps she
slid forward on the slick floor (the table above hiding this drama from the
businessmen.)
As she fell
she scrambled to turn herself around so that she fell feetfirst
rather than headfirst. Her latex-covered
stumps could get no friction on the slippery black surface: She plunked down, falling a short ways, to
land in a basin-like hole beneath the table.
She immediately tried to move but her body was trapped by the close
quarters of her surroundings. In
addition, the surface of the basin she was confined in felt like smooth marble,
and there certainly were no convenient ‘stump-holds’ for her to climb out
with. The smooth hole had been designed
to hold her reduced form and prevent her from moving around too much.
--
As her
weight settled down into it she heard a lid close above her. The enclosure in which she now sat seemed to
analyze whether she had entered it feet or face first and after a few moments
came to rest. Jess had an agonizing
moment when she feared it might rotate around to leave her upside-down but
after she was turned a bit to the side the program that governed the
contraption seemed to decide that she had indeed been right side-up when she
had entered. This was a small relief to
the tormented girl.
Lastly a
smooth ramp began pushing up between her legs, causing her to spread them to
accommodate its girth. At first she
thought she was going to be crushed but eventually she realized it was just
securing her more within the cramped confines.
She now straddled a smooth ‘saddle’ like protrusion which touched her
thighs but bowed in the middle to avoid touching her pussy. Apparently the thing would serve as a sort of
seat, but not provide her with something to rub up against.
She sat
alone in the dark, enclosed and desperate.
She began searching around with her useless limbs, listening to the
muffled sounds of business above and trying to call out for help. Her small sounds echoed in the small chamber
she was locked into. Finally settling
down for a moment to take stock of herself she realized she was incredibly
mentally and emotionally drained:
She just
wanted to give up, this was too much, her body felt like an alien creature --
she was a freak! Now she was being
thrust into impossible positions, she couldn’t take it! She pounded on the walls of her prison making
impotent little attacks on her confines.
After a few moments of this she became calm, deciding to try a rational,
calculated approach to the situation.
After a
futile search with her useless stubs she began moving her head around, its
reduced capabilities making it as useful for gaining purchase or finding a
release button as any of her other limbs.
Eventually her mouth happened onto a protuberance of some sort which
seemed slightly rubbery, it was circular and nub-like.
--
She felt
around the small nub, trying to determine if it was something that she could
use to escape. It seemed vaguely similar
to the small rubbery nub-like thing which she had discovered with her
leg-stumps. Neither nub-thing seemed to
be of much help at the moment.
She began
rubbing her face against the one at the top of the basin while her leg-stumps
rubbed over the one beneath her, she was trying to see if either of them would
do anything. She didn’t have much
manipulative ability though, in her reduced state the only piece of her that
seemed to be of much use right now was her tongue.
Becoming
frustrated she pushed her mouth up on to the rubber nub by her face, trying to
see if she could get a better feel for it with her probing tongue:
She was
able to feel small metallic bumps around the edge of the nub, her tongue danced
over them, judging them to be about the same size as a nipple. She felt other similar bumps as she ran her
tongue around the circumference of the circular rubbery protuberance.
--
She moved her
head a bit to get her mouth near the center of the device and tried to explore
it with her protruding tongue. The
ring-gag got in the way a little but she was happy when she was able to her gag
to go, just barely, around the nub;
the little bumps retracted as she pushed . . .
She would finally be able to get her tongue into it to see what it was!
She heard a
soft ‘click’ as she finished pushing her mouth all the way onto the circular
protuberance, and she immediately tried to pull back in panic. She tried anxiously to jerk her head back
from the wall of the basin but her mouth was now firmly stuck on the
thing. The bumps around the sides of the
nub had sprung back to lock into a matching groove in her ring-gag.
She
realized now as her tongue was able to go all the way into the device that it must be a long opening of some sort; she
shuddered with dread at the thought that whatever this thing was used for, one
of its ends was now firmly locked in position inside of her mouth.
She felt
around the insides of the opening with her tongue, it was cold and metallic to
the touch. As she snaked her tongue
around inside of it she tasted faint traces of something bitter and tangy; the
inside of the pipe also felt slightly damp to the touch . . .
--
After a few
moments she began mewling upwards, the sounds traveled up the pipe to come out
softly from a small dip in the center of the table. The businessmen above laughed when they heard
the mewling noises. The President looked
up at the clock and noted that it was about time for a break anyway . . .
Tea was brought
in and served to each of the
men. One of the men made a joke about
the female servers who brought the drinks in, pointing out that they knew their
place in the company. The President
smiled at this and a small murmur of agreement ran through the room. Then they quieted down to drink their
tea. They each sat and sipped at the
tea, continuing their small talk.
--
After a
little while one of the executives got up and turned to go to the executive
wash room. The President caught his
attention and pressed a control at a panel beside him, motioning for the man to
return to his seat. At the press of the
button the small decorative stripes -- that radiated outwards from the center
of the table to end at each place sitting -- flipped over, each becoming a
trough.
The
President shirked his pants and flopped his heavy cock
down at the lip of the trough in front of him, winking at the other gentlemen
in the room as he did so. He then
relaxed while the men marveled at this ingenious turn of events. As the men watched, slowly, the beginnings of
a small trickle emerged from The President’s cock. The men clapped politely as the first signs
of liquid began sliding quickly down the small canal on the table’s surface to
continue towards the middle.
Jess could
feel an aura of anticipation in the air, as the entranced men watched the
liquid nearing the small hole at the center of the table. As the liquid finally reached its target a
small cheer went up amongst the men who watched it drop suddenly down into
table.
--
The urine
fell down the hole, disappearing from the world above and splashing down into
Jess’s domain. It flowed down, swirled
about, making a rushing noise in the pipe as it noisily gurgled towards the
basin. Jess heard it coming and worried
nervously as to what was about to happen.
She fretted over her circumstances, yanking hard on her facial bondage,
trying to pull herself away from whatever it was that was about to spill down
into her mouth.
Finally,
the golden liquid emerged. It reached
the end of its long journey, still fresh and hot, and crested over the lip of
the pipe’s end, penetrating Jess’s ringed face after
rudely surging past her defending tongue.
It invaded her facial demesnes, strode between her wide-stretched lips,
caught her in the roof of her mouth and then fell down towards the back of her
throat.
Jess
gurgled and struggled with the acrid liquid, surprised when it made its first
appearance – immediately repulsed by its smell and taste
--
The men
continued to clap as the President described the situation, and the other men –
who had politely been holding their bladders – stood up to take advantage of
this executive perk.
The flow
from the President was soon joined by several other streams, each of which
traveled greedily down the table’s angled surface before slipping discretely
into the center of the hole, as though vanishing by magic.
--
Jess was
still holding a large volume of liquid in her mouth, having swallowed some but
refusing to swallow any more. As she
refused to let any past her tonsils the pressure built up in her mouth. Jess would be forced to swallow soon to avoid
choking on the copious amount that was now piling up, as though waiting in
line, in the pipe leading up to her mouth.
The new passengers from above were arriving in a continuous stream now.
She
struggled with the room full of men’s voluminous issue; the amounts of piss
being piped down to her head were mounting until, finally, she surrendered and
turned over her throat to their use:
The bitter
liquid rushed down her throat and filled her belly. It gushed down in a surging deluge, causing
Jess to sputter and cough as the stormy sea engulfed her and moved down into
her stomach.
After the
initial downpour though, most of the men stood and relaxed: The ‘morning rush’ was over.
--
As soon as
she could breathe freely again she tried to struggle out of her bonds,
thrashing at the hard walls around her.
She let her impotent rage out, yelling and cursing up the pipe but to no
avail, the walls were too smooth for her stumps to gain vantage on and all that
emerged from the pipe above was a very low murmur of light sound, like a
bubbling river or a tiny hum.
The men in the
meeting all smiled slightly to themselves.
Each one was more relaxed and comfortable now; the new mascot was
improving office morale already.
--
She could
not close her mouth, or free it from the pipe.
She was completely at the mercy of whatever effusions came down the
pipe, and the unmistakable clink of china indicated that another round of tea
was being served.
She sobbed
to herself, the noise she completely unnoticed by the men above. The meeting continued, the men’s attention went
back to business, and occasionally another man would stand and contribute to
her ‘business education’.
--
Eventually
she herself had to go pee, her little twat -- hidden inside of the basin,
connected to practically useless stumps of legs -- throbbed nervously, wanting
to relieve itself of its burden.
Finally,
she could hold it no longer and released it, breathing a sigh of relieve as the
pressure in her groin abated. The dark
yellow liquid coursed down the saddle-like surface of her seat, apparently
being guided by the dip in the middle, down, until it slipped down into the
rubbery-nub Jess had discovered earlier with her flailing stump feet. She had expected it to remain with her, not
realizing that it would drain out, and so she had kept it in to avoid having to
endure its smell.
After a few
moments she noticed that it had seemingly disappeared. She was puzzled by this but decided to not
worry about it and instead let the rest of the liquid in her flow out into the
basin. Her pussy happily spouted her
bladder’s contents into the ‘drainpipe’ below.
The flow from her bladder coursed onto the smooth seat-thing that spread
her legs beneath her and followed the course down to the lower pipe.
If she had
fallen into the basin headfirst the hydraulic cage she was now in would have
rotated around to right her, and the pipe her pussy’s stream drained into would
now have instead been the one she closed her mouth around. As it was it was simply a matter of chance as
to which pipe served as intake and which as outtake:
Flowing out
through the small pipe the liquid waste was pumped back up to sit in a small
reservoir at the top of the basin. After
this reservoir waited a moment (in case a large load was being given to it) it
would begin Jess’s next lesson . . .
--
A small
chime struck, signaling to the audience that the event was about to occur, and,
unbeknownst to Jessica, her urine now pumped from the reservoir into a system
which coordinated a humiliating ‘jumping fountains’ array for her patrons’ benefit.
This would
theatrically mark each of Jess’s own releases, providing notice of when Jessica
relieved herself. The President made a
mark on Jess’s ‘Employee Progress’ chart.
--
The waste,
of course, drained back down into the table again after it had completed its
dance. It went back down into that hated
pipe, gurgling on the way to announce its arrival, and then surging full speed
down into Jessica, only, this time, it was concentrated, very bitter and acrid,
a darker color, and made her gag immediately as it entered her mouth.
She refused
to swallow a single drop, knowing by its disgusting taste and convenient timing
that it was the same piss that had just been in her body. She could not bring herself to swallow her
own piss. The problem for her, though,
was that, again, she could not breathe.
As she held
her throat from swallowing, steeling her nerves and trying to push the fluid
back up the pipe with her tongue and mouth muscles, the array above finished
its last hop and fell down into the center of the table. Now, the total volume and weight of her full
‘performance’ was now pressing down on her tonsils, demanding re-entrance to
her soft belly.
--
Jess cried
real tears, this waste had only moments ago been in her kidneys and she didn’t want
it back there! But she could hold out no
longer and, with an incredible amount of self-disgust – had only moments ago
sighed with relief as she let this stuff out of her -- she awkwardly
surrendered to the force of the liquid, which eagerly pursued its course back
into her stomach, ready to being its second journey through her digestive tract
. . . Her tears, clear and pure, fell
down to the bottom of the basin, falling between her legs to be guided
themselves down into Jess’s open, waiting waste pipe.
--
Each time
the chime rung and the fountain dance occurred the men commemorated the event
by applauding loudly and then clinking their glasses together. Each time the dance ended the hated drink was
more nauseating and stronger than before:
Jess was forced to absorb more and more of the actual nutrients of the
waste with each pass. As much of the tea
as the men drank Jess received about the same nutritional value during her full
tenure as their receptacle as they themselves received from one glass. The main difference though was that while
their stomachs and bladders were empty her stomach had started to bulge with
its load.
Eventually
there wasn’t a part of her that could store liquid that wasn’t full, her mouth
held some, her stomach held increasingly large amounts of the stuff, her
kidneys and digestive tract held as much as they could, and her bladder, oh her
tormented bladder, she held it as long as she could because it just came right
back around.
To give you
an idea of how full of this stuff Jess became, by the eighth time she had let
her bladder go her tears had become slightly yellow in color: Her overworked kidneys were simply giving up
and letting the liquid pass by without much processing.
Finally, by
the twentieth time the President had marked her progress, she could no longer
distinguish between the fluid that re-entered her mouth from her pussy and the
liquid that re-entered from the tears she was sporadically shedding. She didn’t even try to hold her bladder
anymore but just let her pussy spurt its juice whenever her stomach kicked more
down to her bladder.
She had
stopped thinking of herself as a person, and tried not to think much at
all. Time seemed to drift on endlessly
and she gave in to all the pressures on her body and ‘went with the flow.’ She didn’t have much will to resist left, she
would just occasionally murmur something unintelligible or lift a fore-stump a
little and then let it drop back down.
Her mind became numb with the strain she was being put under and she thought
it would never end.
When she
was finally released she was so grateful that she obediently followed his
command to kneel in front of him and then spread her stumps as a large diaper
was strapped onto her. She looked up at
him in awe of how majestic he was in relation to her degraded state. She felt like a piece of dirt and would have
welcomed it if he had told her to lie down so that he could wipe his feet off
on her face. She was so fatigued after
her ordeal that she would have done anything to please whoever she thought
might hold any power over her life.
Little did
she realize at that moment but that her education was just beginning and that
she would visit that cubby hole every day for the morning meetings. It would be easier in the future though, on
most days there were no board meetings and fewer men would be in the room. It would have been humiliating to her to
learn that attendance at conference meetings would increase, with low ranking
employees turning up to hear what their bosses had to say, once news of her
promotion had gotten around.
--
Over the
next few weeks her digestive tract would quickly learn to process the mens’ gifts of piss and semen, diligently sucking every
drop of protein and nutrition out of them as it could, but her body would still
lack nutrients . . .
Eating from a dog dish
Jess wolfed down
her food, she was so hungry, and she craved the salt in the meal she was being
fed. The President smiled down at her as
she accepted her food so readily, he had taken Jess with him after the meeting
today, he had tugged on her leash and she had obediently followed. Usually she was allowed into the cafeteria
where she would be allowed table scraps in small amounts but today he was going
to take a personal interest in her education.
“From now on you will have lunch with the President,” he said. He watched her waddle in her diaper down the
hall, following him blindly as he pulled on her leash.
He had kept
her off of solid food for a few days (forbidding employees from feeding her
anything at lunch time other than their cocks) and she was desperate for
something to eat. Crawling blindly after him, she followed his lead into the
Executive Washroom:
She felt the
cold tile and could smell that they were in a bathroom. At first she was a little nervous as to what
was to happen but she quickly got over her worries when she smelled some food,
real human food, being brought in front of her.
Her ring-gag was taken out and she felt something akin to gratitude to
the man who had finally released her from that awful burden. Her meal was served in a dish on the bathroom
floor, but despite the odors in the air and the demeaning position in which she
was eating it she leaned her head down and dug into it greedily.
She was
tired, and hungry, and had been beaten down by the treatment she had received
to the point where she didn’t think much at all anymore, but instead responded
to commands and had started to anticipate ways in which she could please
men. When more food was offered to her
she ate it without resistance, in fact she craved even more this time. When the President had offered her some from
his hand, holding it up to her mouth she opened her mouth and took it without
hesitation. Something in this food made
her feel really good and forget her aches and pains.
When she
heard a bowl being filled with water from the toilet she hesitated for a
moment, but thirsty as she was for real water she drank that down as well after
sniffing it a bit.
--
While on
the tile she was stripped, hosed down, and then re-clothed in her form fitting
latex. Not once did she struggle or try
to escape; she was thoroughly broken-in.
She had an
opportunity to see herself in a mirror for the first time and she showed little
reaction, her eyes had long ago cried all they could. Her hair was indeed gone, her lips were puffy
and swollen and had had a tight collagen ring surgically implanted into them.
--
Her head
was shaved again and then resqueezed into the black
latex hood that she was forced to wear.
She moaned a little at the loss of her limbs, sagging dejectedly as she
came to terms with the permanency of her new form. After seeing her naked pink stumps when her
limb’s latex and padding had been taken off she realized that there was no
denying it anymore, her new position with the company was permanent.
--
After she
had been cleaned up she was offered some more food. This time she was offered food from a can
rather than real food, she was told that it was tuna. She was still hungry but wasn’t sure if she
wanted to eat mush from a can like a common animal, table scraps were still
real human food even if she had to eat them off the floor. Still, after a tentative lick she realized
that she craved the salt in it.
Alternating between eating her tuna and then lapping at the toilet water
in her other bowl Jess had soon finished her meal. Again she felt a tingly glow from her food
and a sense of euphoria.
A moment
later when the President placed another dish in front of her she didn’t
hesitate to lean in hungrily and begin licking at her food. After a few tentative tastes she eagerly dug
in to the salty meal. “That’s a good
girl, eat it all up, that’s my good girl,” The President smiled down at her and
pet her head as he watched her eat the pile of mush. He also read the label off of the supplements
that had been ground up and put into each of Jess’s canned meals of ‘tuna:
--
BOVINE GROWTH
HORMONE ‘G5’
MASCOT DIET PILLS
Recommended
use is for farm cows to increase udder size and productivity quickly.
Give a 250lb. cow one small pill
once weekly for 2-4 weeks then discontinue use.
Warning: Not for human consumption, harmful if
swallowed, could cause the following in humans:
Loss
of memory, shortness of breath, dry mouth, loss of weight, loss of brain power,
slight loss of hearing, slight vision loss, temporary paralysis and/or
difficulty lifting heavy objects, swelling, cramps, itchy skin, bloating, loss
of sexual appetite or drive, reduced sexual pleasure, increased sensitivity to
light, increased sensitivity to pain
©2005 Pharma-Co
This
medication is experimental and has not been approved by the FDA. Use only as a
dietary supplement.
--
Jess was
fed the equivalent of two diet pills in each bowl of the low-quality generic
cat food that constituted her ‘tuna.’
The President also mixed in a mild narcotic to build up an addiction to
the substance.
After a few
days of regular feeding to get her hooked the President decided on a personal
addition to her food:
Normally
Jess would bound eagerly into the washroom after her morning meeting, having
quickly gotten used to the President’s personal regimen. Her abused mouth would be eager for the
relief of having her ring-gag taken off so that she could eat, her body looked
forward to being cleaned and allowed to make toilet – she was punished severely
if she messed the company carpet during the day, and at night she was given a
diaper to wear.
Her body
also badly craved the food, in fact she felt addicted to it: Today though the President had taken her
blindfold off and then lifted her dish up to carry it into the bathroom stall
with him.
--
Jess
blanched as she heard the sounds he made, noting that he was not being discreet
about his activities. Afterwards he came
out smiling (and with nary a toilet flush) and then showed Jess her now
occupied food bowl, making sure she got a good look, before adding in a top
layer of the mixture she now so desperately craved.
At first
she balked, but she was only given bowls of food at
The
President smiled at her and then pet her head. She was still hungry though, and still craved
that feeling her food brought with it.
She rubbed up against his leg to show that she wanted more to eat – the
way he had taught her to do. He nodded
down at her ‘Of course honey, you can have more right after you finish the rest
of what’s in your bowl.’
She groaned
and nervously approached the remaining ‘food.’
After a few tentative approaches she realized that she couldn’t do it
and instead waited on the floor, the cravings growing inside her.
The
President said “Suit yourself,” and made to leave but Jess barked to get his
attention – as he had taught her – and then when he turned she made a show of
obediently eating a small piece of what was in her dish, her insides roiled in
disgust but she so desperately didn’t want him to leave, not now, not when she
could have more of that sweet canned food that made her feel so good.
She looked
up at him pleadingly and then opened her mouth as he instructed her and showed
him that it was indeed “All gone.” Next
she rolled over onto her back as he indicated with a hand motion. On her back she was now helpless to right
herself (the most she could do is roll over to her side.) She begged him for more food with her eyes
and by holding her stumps up in the proper ‘begging’ position by her face –
again, as she had been taught to.
He finally
relented with a “You always give me those puppy-dog eyes,” and poured her some
more. She barked happily and wolfed down
her food after he had helped her to sit back up. Afterwards he had her roll over again while
he playfully rubbed her tits, stroking them and fondling them the way a person
does to a pet’s tummy.
--
The next
day Jess was to discover that the food she so desperately needed was this time
poured into her bowl before the President took it into the bathroom with him.
She cringed as she heard the disgusting sounds that happened in the stall
before the President exited and put her food down before her. She had whined miserably for the few minutes
before finally giving in and eating down through the mess to reach the sweet
prize below.
--
Reflecting
back on it the President remembered how hard it was to get Jess started on her
current mixture, but he had persevered, increasing her dependence on the
narcotic until she ate her food without question no matter how buried it
became. In fact he now made sure that
she went into the stall with him so that she could watch while he ‘topped’ her
bowl off.
Each day he
noted roughly how much of each ingredient went into her bowl, adamant about her
‘watching her diet:’
Today the
stuff she was greedily slurping down was his own
personal best achievement in her progress to date: It consisted of 60% cat food, 20% narcotic
and 20% ‘special blend.’ He made a
little note of this on Jess’s diet chart in the washroom. He looked the chart over, noting her
progress, seeing that she was ready for the next level.
--
Each time
she ate now he stood over her glowingly and stroked her clitoris, encouraging
her to enjoy her meal. His goal -- he
dreamed of the day when it would happen – as he pet her head and cooed at her
while she ate, was a 10% cat food, .1% additive, 89.9% ‘President’s Special’
ratio. He stroked himself while he
thought of this and when he was about to cum he made sure to spatter it onto
Jess’s half-eaten food (she gulped it down easily, hardly noticing it -- so
common was it for her to eat spunk that it had become food in her mind.)
In his
fantasy he would then taunt Jess by holding her ‘food’ away from her and having
her beg for it, knowing that eventually she would need to feed that addiction
so much that she would eat even that disgusting mixture, maybe, some day.
“Such
pleasant notions for later,” he sighed as he stood up,
right now he had work to do. Zipping his
fly he waited until after she had finished eating to inform her that she was
done for the day. She looked up at him
beseechingly, her eyes doing their best to ask for more. “Not now honey,” he said, “Daddy’s all
out.” He reached down and ran a
tape-measure across her enormous chest.
As he measured today’s bust size he noted it on Jess’s growth chart
(which stood next to her diet chart.)
--
The diet
pills were doing their work, where previously she had been an unremarkable DD
she now ‘stood’ proudly at an acceptable GG.
“You know what that stands for?”
He asked her after congratulating her on her new size. “You’re my ‘good girl’, yes you are, and good
little girls get treats!”
As a reward
for such improvement in her work, the President led her into the stall again;
at GG status she would get as much food as she wanted, nothing was too good for
his good little girls, he wanted to make sure they stayed healthy and growing
after all.
Every day after her feeding
the Mascot was released to crawl
around the office. She could not escape,
she could not reach any of the doorknobs much less turn them. If an office worker noticed her trying to reach
one they would either punish her in her tits for her disobedience or ignore
what she was doing and guide her patiently but without much attention to their
desk where they held her head up next to their crotch and used her for pleasure
or business -- improving their productivity by not having to get up to visit
the head.
When a
worker finished with a piece of paper or any other piece of trash they tossed
it onto the floor near them and rang a small bell which was the summons for the
office Mascot. If Jess did not hurry so
that her tits wagged back and forth she was punished in her tits until she ran
in ‘obedience circles’ of contrition.
This would
be where she pretended to be a small dog chasing its tail as a way to show that
she was sorry. Then she would present
her mouth for use as a way of apologizing personally to the worker whose
productivity she was taking away from.
(She received a strong oral cleansing every day after her feeding.)
--
All in all
though she was mostly ignored, occasionally she would be made to model or a
worker would take a candid shot of her.
When she
posed for company photos she was made to pose from behind so that her twat was
framed as though it was her head, with her thigh stumps forming her torso. The company photo of her showcased her butt,
with her twat as her face, and her thigh stumps positioned as though they were
shoulders. The image was cropped so that
the floor was not shown -- a formal blue background was used. It looked like an elegant professional
headshot. Before the photograph was
taken make-up was applied to her ‘face’ so that her beauty was enhanced.
Small lines
and wrinkles were airbrushed out of the photo, a wig was draped over her ass so
as to simulate hair, her ‘mouth’ was given heavy
lipstick and lipliner. Her eyebrows were penciled in, her ‘facial’
hair was shaved and waxed, and a shawl was tied around her ‘shoulders’ to
properly present her. She was made to
pose for company photos every week as part of a morale building exercise. They were each enlarged and put up on a wall
to improve company morale.
Every month
the employee who performed the best was given a photo op with the Mascot. The two would pose ‘shaking hands’ where
Jess’s thigh stump was grasped by the employee and he inserted a finger into
her ‘mouth.’ He would smile and the
camera would flash. “Smile, you’re
employee of the month.” That same
employee get a copy of the photo, a copy of it would be placed up on the wall,
and he would also then get the key to Jess’s ‘apartment’ (the desk which she
was locked under at night) so that if he had to work late he could have her all
to himself.
He would
also get three free tickets to the office pool:
The office
pool was a running contest to guess what Jess’s current exact total breast size
was. Crude measurements such as cup size
were not used; instead the bets were placed down to the 1/4 of an inch. It was a hot topic at the Water cooler as to
whether she had gained any that day or not.
If an employee passed her in the hall they might say “Hey Jess, looking
good, did you gain some weight?” She
knew to ‘smile’ demurely in return by waggling her bottom in the air and not
saying anything. Good girls don’t speak.
Whenever
she was not servicing someone Jess was constantly being mauled by a curious
employee who would gaze intently at her humongous chest and maneuver her this
way and that trying to gauge how much around she was. Tickets to the pool were generally expensive
but the prize was considered worth it:
The weekly
winners were given keys to the small ‘chastity’ device which prevented
employees from using Jess’s prized cleavage-hole. Any employee lucky enough to win the office
pool for that week would be the only one allowed access to the tight crack
between that gorgeous rack. It was common practice to show off your rare
right around the office by taking photos of Jess’s wet chest after a hearty
tit-fuck and putting them up around your desk.
Her second Promotion
One day while Jess was sucking
ardently at a male employee’s member
and another was being shoved rudely up her bum, a shower of confetti fell down
upon her. Usually this meant that it was
someone’s birthday and that she was to be escorted there to serve as the party
favor, but today it meant something far more special:
“Well my
little Office Mascot,” The President himself walked up to her, looking down at
her burgeoning chest with pride. He
motioned for the two men to finish up.
The first one spurted into her mouth and then zipped up, letting Jess’s
head fall without care as he did. The
second one took a little longer to finish up and those who had gathered around
watched with impatience as the man pounded her backside for a few more moments
before greasing her insides with his lovejuice.
Pulling out
he had a sheepish grin on his face and he hurried off to his desk. The President attached a leash to Jess’s neck
and pulled her along after him, parading her to the gathered onlookers. He announced loudly that this was her one
year anniversary at her new position.
“You have
worked long and hard and we are going to celebrate by promoting you again!” he
yelled to the happy throng around him.
Leading the crowd into the conference room that had been prepared he
lifted Jess up, once again grabbing her by her tits – a move that she was quite
used to by this time – and setting her down onto the table that had been
set-up. There was a small contraption in
the center of the room and party decorations had been strewn here and there.
Buckling Jess
into this strange contraption the President and two other men tightened the
breast-cuffs that the device used to secure her, strapping them tightly around
the bases of her breasts. The President
then turned to the assembled crowd, some of whom had picked up plates and
knives and were waiting with anxious anticipation, salivating at the sight of
those massive mams.
“In
recognition of your personal growth as an employee . . .” He paused for effect,
then cried out, “from a D cup to an HHH cup in one year!” After a round of applause he continued, “Come
on up here Mike. Mike here has the
closest pool ticket for this week, yes I know they were quite expensive this
time but you know it’s worth it. Mike,
you guessed within 1/8 of an inch, quite a feat, and as such you get the
honors.”
Jess was
confused, normally she would be servicing the party guests, crawling around and
sucking on them while they talked and sipped at drinks, and while she didn’t
mind the reprieve from her work she wondered what all
the fuss was about.
“Mike, here
you go,” the President said handing the hard worker a large, sharp knife. “Jess, you are probably wondering what your
new title is going to be. Well, as you
know, we all admire your work here,” some snickers from the audience, “but
you’re simply getting less productive with those massive melons of yours. You’ve been having a hard time moving about
with them scraping on the floor and I think a move up the corporate ladder is
just what you need . . . But first we’ll
need to unencumber you so that you’re more
economical.”
Jess
furrowed her brow, trying to make out the meaning in his words. “Jess, you are being promoted to ‘Personal
Executive Washroom Assistant’!” Jess’s
eyes widened in alarm, Personal Assistant, Washroom, she had seen glimpses when
they were inside the stall, The President usually didn’t take the blindfold off
until after he had already sat down on the toilet but when he took it off early
she had thought she had seen a head inside of the bowl. It never made sense to her because a woman
would never be able to fit into such a tight space unless her arms and legs
were completely removed. “And besides that,” she thought to herself,
“where would her breasts fit?”
With that
thought Mike, who had been posing for the cameras, after receiving word from
the President that the oven was ready and that the tourniquets had been
secured, let into Jess’s tit base with a strong ‘whack!’ He didn’t get it clear off, but the base of
Jess’s grotesquely large tits had been bound tightly and very little blood
flowed as the now half-severed right tit swung down, lolling pitifully.
Jess let
out a terrific cry, the pain shooting up from her tits virulently. She was surprised, and shocked, and screaming
loudly. Mike finished the job with
another strong ‘whack!’ This time the
tit fell off clean and was scooped up -- the implants removed – so that it
could be cleaned out and stuffed with other tasty foods . . . and then placed
in the oven for cooking.
Jess
continued to caterwaul and was promptly gagged while Mike posed for more
pictures and then began on the left one.
--
After all
of the guests had been served the President began feeding Jess from his own
plate, shoving a piece of delicious breast into her mouth, making sure she chewed
the skin and then swallowed. Leaning in
he savored the look of revulsion on her face before whispering in her ear
“You’re going to look so good sitting under my ass.” Jess swallowed nervously, the action a good
warm-up for what she would be doing professionally for the rest of her life.
---
by
Alex Streuth
If you enjoyed this story, please drop me a line.
---
Themes: Self Promotion: Big boobs, voyeurism, latex, bondage, fetish
+
First
Promotion: Bigger boobs, Amputation,
degradation, humiliation, objectification, unwanted implants, rape, piss, scat
+
Second
Promotion: Biggest boobs, some brief
gore.