I’ve been told that I’m a company woman to the death, and that it wasn’t necessarily a compliment or an insult. I work long, hard hours, and take my work home with me when I can. I always think two steps ahead of my supervisors, and find new, efficient ways to do my work. God forbid I ever catch anyone stealing supplies here and there; even if someone so much as opens the supply closet without leaving a form with me will receive the full, unabated, righteous fury of the company, and clean out their desks by 4pm.
I’ve been told that I have a Napoleona complex: since I’m small, slim, flat chested with no butt, I secretly feel inferior to everyone, and I have to overcompensate. The person who told me that got fired a week later for completely unrelated reasons, I hear. Missing supplies ended up in his desk or something or other. It is true that I am the smallest person in the office. Some people even say that I look like someone’s angsty teenaged daughter, what with the “radical” pixie cut that I wear.
Perhaps I should be more clear about what it is exactly that I do. You know those ads you always see on your favorite porn sites offering you “One Weird Trick” with a gif of a man tenderly caressing, stroking, and coaxing an impossibly thick shaft to life, never quite reaching climax? I work for a company that bottles and ships out those miracle pills. You may have thought those were computer viruses, but no, those are completely legit.
All the men at Donger Pharmaceuticals take them, and they claim to be pleased with the results, though quite a few of their wives and husbands bring up complaints that they were now too big to even have sex with. And all they wanted to do once they got to that length was sit around and bathe themselves in their own cum.
Morris Richardson, my boss, started taking them until his wife simply divorced him. Then he fell off the deep end, and continued to grow his cock size up until the point where he has to wear housecoats around the office, because pants and underwear don’t fit anymore. He likes to walk by women’s desks, with his honeydew sized testes knocking against the furniture like twin wrecking balls, whilst his flaccid penis might “accidentally” flop out to greet whomever was there. He did this to me several times, once even spilling my coffee mug over my paperwork.
Eventually he started calling himself Morris “Mo’ Dick” Richardson. I just threw up in my mouth a little typing that out. He cornered me in the break room one day, immediately leading off with a back massage, as I waited in front of the microwave for my honey bun. “How’s my massage skills,” he asked, his voice deepening past its natural range. “I know they must not be able to compete with—”
“I’m going to stop you from saying something incredibly racist and offensive,” I said.
“I was just going to say that I’m sure you know some really good masseuses. Probably got some in your family, am I wrong?” I shrugged him off, and stepped off to the side. He moved right back behind me, and this time, I felt his soggy, fleshy orbs of masculinity bounce off my tight butt. “Don’t play so hard to get, princess,” he said, going for the massage yet again. “You’re not one of those PC feminazis, are you? I mean, I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“Mr. Richardson—”
“Mo’ Dick.”
“Sir, I refuse to ever call you that, ever,” I said to him. The microwave beeped, and I moved to retrieve my snack.
“Fine. I’ll play your game,” he said, a sly grin covering his face.
“There is no game. Where are you getting all of this from—”
“It’s your fantasy, right? You wanna surrender your little chinky snatch to a real, fat, white, American dick, don’t you?” So, here was my dilemma. I am very good at my job, and I like my job. It pays insanely well, and I believe in the product. I didn’t want to quit, because some fucking pervert loser tried to grope me. I didn’t even want to sue and hurt the company. That’s when I decided that I was going to take his job. I didn’t even want his job, so much as I just wanted to shred his ego into bite sized strips that melt on the tongue like those Listerine strips, and feed on it for the next year or so. I wanted to see his spirit leave his body through his eyes, and have an empty husk following me about the office, lugging his giant balls around in a wheelbarrow. The thing was, I needed to break him quickly, and it had to be nothing less than ultimate surrender.
“Have you been to Dave & Busters,” I asked. His brow raised, as he put his hands to his hips.
“Of course I have. Is this a date?”
“Yes,” I said, struggling to hide my disgust. “There’s a part of D & B that most people don’t know about.”
“Go on…”
“Everyone comes in, and they hang out in the Dave portion of the restaurant. You know, food, drinks, arcade, that kind of stuff. Not many people know about Busters.” I didn’t feel bad for him for a single second, when I saw that he agreed. You shouldn’t either.
****
Morris insisted on linking arms with me as we made our way through the restaurant. I was literally counting steps and seconds simultaneously, waiting for the moment when we arrived at the secret, speak-easy styled door which led to Busters.
“You never told me what kind of things they have at Busters,” he said.
“Patience,” I told him. The slot opened, and a pair of vantablack lips asked me for the password. “Traubenbrechen.” The door clicked, and the door woman vanished, as I reached for the knob.
“Mmm, what’s that some kind of Chinese?”
“…Sure.” We stepped into the darkened entrance hall, sound proofing material coating all of the walls, and even the door. He pressed up against my back, and pinned me to the wall for a moment, taking a gratuitous feel of all of my body. “Patience,” I repeated.
“Babe, I can’t wait any longer. I want you now… I’m just about ready to burst.”
“Follow me, then. You won’t be disappointed.” He finally let up, and I scurried down the hall. I could hear his balls slapping against each other as he walked, churning and roiling with need. He was bigger than he had been at the office earlier that week. The junkie couldn’t even help himself; addicted to his own dick.
We came to a smoky, dim cellar, with plenty of alcoves on every wall, curtains in front of each to offer some form of privacy. There was a handful of women sitting around an open bar in the middle, sipping margaritas, and they all turned to look at my specimen. One of them offered a polite golf clap, upon seeing the soccerball sized nuts on this man.
“Ah, it looks like you ladies picked the right night,” I said, towing him along to the bar with me. They all stood to their feet, and in moments had him surrounded.
“Oh, I think I like where this is going,” Morris said, grinning like a child at a Dave & Busters. We took him into one of the alcoves, pulling the curtain closed behind us. There was a queen sized bed in the middle, and lining the walls were just about every type of torture instrument that you could possibly imagine. He froze when he saw them all, and immediately tried to back away. We were expecting it though; they *always* try to run. Two of the women grabbed him from either side, while I cuffed his wrist to the bed. “Hold on, wait. Wait. Not that I’m against this or anything, but uh… Shouldn’t we discuss… You know, safe words?”
“Safe words? But those are for PC feminazis, right,” I asked, as I began to browse the instruments of pain.
“Hey, I’m sorry about how I came off, okay? I dunno, I thought chink- chicks were into that,” he said. I glared at him. “Simple slip of the tongue! I meant to say chick!”
“That’s your safe word. Chink. If you get scared, or you can’t take the pain anymore… If your eyes are filled with tears, and your skin is on fire, then call me a chink, and I’ll decide if I want to stop the ride or not.”
“W-what?” The rest of the women stood back, watching the show, as I took up a wickedly thin, black cane.
“Get on the fucking bed,” I demanded. “Right now, you puddle of dysentery infected shit.” He decided to test me, and not move an inch. So, I lifted up my leg high enough to stomp on his swollen nuts with my sharp, black heels. This man screamed like he was on board a flaming airplane with no wings or landing gear, and he dropped to the floor, only able to hold his nuts with one hand. I tore open his robes, further disgusted by the sight.
He was fully erect in seconds; his shaft expanded so rapidly in fact, that he became pale in the face, and lost the ability to hold his head up. Meanwhile, the head of his 18 by 6 inch dick glowed a bright, fruity red. “This disgusting loser enjoys it,” one of the women remarked. They all watched, some chewing nails, one of them openly touching herself through her jeans.
“No, I don’t want this! I can’t help it,” he explained. “These dick pills make me horny all the time, no matter what happens!”
“Good. I don’t want you to enjoy this,” I said, as I dropped my knee down on the underside of his shaft, directly on top of the frenulum, pinning his cock to his body. He groaned in agony, as he doused his fat belly and man boobs with pre. Meanwhile, with his cock pinned like this, I began to cane his sack, viciously, going for frequency and intensity over power.
“Please! Please stop this!”
“That’s not your safeword,” I said, as I lashed out again and again, turning his sack flesh into a red striped battleground.
“Chink! I said chink! That’s my safeword!” I took the cane away, and smiled down at him, for a moment, as I stood up. “Thank God…” I put my foot down over the ridge of his shaft before it could stand back to attention, and I held it down on his chest, my heel driving in between his ribs, as I put some of my weight on him. Then, I retrieved a cattle prod from the nearby shelf. “Wait, wait, I just— You can’t ignore my safeword!” He ignored it, and that last sentence as well, as I pressed the cruel tip against his manhood, where shaft met sack.
“Call me a fucking chink, one more fucking time,” I said, as I sent a volt of electricity through his cock and balls. He convulsed beneath me, which only made the heel in his chest and on top of his cock hurt further.
“What do you want from me!? Do you want an apology!? Money!? I will pay you to leave me alone, I swear! You’ll never get another problem out of me, ever again!”
“They always beg,” one of the women said, giggling. “Loser, don’t you get it? You’re ours now. You’re our fucking pervert now, and we’re going to punish you every fucking day until your mind breaks. Then, maybe we’ll throw you away for someone else to use.”
“Why!? Why are you doing this?” He was crying now that he realized what he had locked himself into.
“Because you earned it,” I said. One of the other women opened a pack of clothespins, and doled them out among us. While I held him down, We each took turns stretching out his sack skin and then closing the folds up in the clothespins. We did this until his sack was tight, and his balls clearly visible. By now, a steady stream of pre-cum was oozing out over his chest, and his dick was twitching and throbbing, trying to get itself off on the sole of my shoe. Morris on the other hand was gritting his teeth, trying not to scream too loud.
“Check this out,” yet another of the women said, as she opened a drawer. She rummaged around for a moment until she held a container of Icy Hot.
“What— Oh, oh fuck… No, no, no, no, no,” he murmured as she unscrewed the cap. Moreso than any time before, he tried to struggle his way away from us. I shocked his frenulum with the cattle prod until he stopped moving, while the woman scooped out an entire glob of the cream. She smeared the strong chemicals directly onto his balls, not stopping until his entire sack and his shaft was coated. She even went so far as to stuff some of the excess within his foreskin, and roll it back up over his head.
We watched him pick his way through all five stages of grief as we waited for the cream to move from icy to hot. “This isn’t happening… This is all some scenario that you cooked up to scare me. You can’t keep me here for long. The police will come looking for me. You’ve got nothing, you gook bitch! Was I not the perfect boss to you!? Did I not teach you everything you know!? And this is the thanks I get!? Huh!? You know what… You know what, I get it. I was a pig. I get that. We can work this out, can’t we? I mean, I still believe that. I know that you’re a good person, and I’ve got my faults, but I’m trying to be better, you know? Could we just try to work this out? Please? Mei, I’m a nothing… I invested all of my money in these dumb pills… I’ve got nothing… I couldn’t even not get high off of my own supply… I don’t belong in this business… I bet you already know that though, huh? How much of a loser I am? You’re not even listening… Fine. Fuck it. If this is my fate, I might as well try to enj- FUCK! THAT BURNS! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
We all converged on his cock at once, stroking the cream into his skin, for a deeper, harsher burn. Unable to do anything but splay his legs open and scream, he did nothing to stop us from pushing him closer to his unwanted orgasm. Of course, we aimed his head directly at his own face, waiting for his body to pull the trigger. He fought against his own moaning; the drugs made it so that he couldn’t help but feel the most intense pleasure imaginable. And from multiple sets of hands, at that. “Cumming… Fuck, fuck, no!” The second his dick began to jump, we all released it. He immediately tried to grab his own shaft with his remaining hand, but I stomped it down, catching his wrist beneath my heel. His enflamed, abused, bruised, violated manhood began to gush uncontrollably. All of the pleasure was gone now. He wasn’t cumming. He was pissing sperm.
His climax lasted longer than it took us to bring him to it; a thick stream of off white, hot spunk landed on his face and chest, in chunks. More than a desirable amount went straight up his nose, and he had to cough and sneeze it back up. He blacked out for several seconds, overloaded with sensations, laying in a pool of his own mess.
“Thanks for the assist, ladies. I’ll be back tomorrow, after I take care of some things. You’ve got it from here,” I asked them.
“You bet,” one of them answered. She looked over to him fluttering his cummy eyelids, as he awoke. “Hey. Hey, bitch. Left or right?”
“W-what?” I walked towards the curtain, stretching my arms, wiping my hands on a nearby towel. “Mei! Mei don’t leave me! Please! Meeiii!” He was so focused on watching me walk away that he didn’t notice the women arming themselves with croquet mallets.
“Yep. Sounds like a lefty to me,” I heard one of them say. “Later, Mei.”
“Leave me some, will ya? Night, ladies.” I glanced back one last time; they all had their mallets raised…
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/63vj0a/mei_goes_to_dave_busters