Big Bad Bitch
“Remind me, Miss Weymouth, of what I asked you to do.”
Melanie gasps. She shifts uncomfortably on her seat, her skin frissoning, her body snapping to attention. She looks up at Maya pleadingly but finds no compassion in her boss’s ominous smile.
The boss’s office has never felt this oppressively huge – or this much like a funeral home. Paintings hang from the walls between file cabinets and framed commendations. Maya sits across the desk, her figure framed by a large rectangular window behind her. Outside, the sun peeks through the skyline. Melanie shields her eyes from the glare.
“I’m s-so sorry, ma’am, I-”
“Remind me, Miss Weymouth, of what I asked you to do,” Maya repeats, now with a hint of annoyance. Her manicured nails tap on the mahogany desk. Untouched coffee swirls around in her mug.
Melania trembles. She is beginning to hyperventilate. Her hands instinctively shield her swollen belly. Two, three months tops. “You asked for a cup of coffee, ma’am. Two sugars, no cream.”
The boss nods. Behind her desk, she looks powerful. She looks like royalty. Her skirted suit is perfectly tailored to her body. It supplements her curves. An ample chest that jiggles enticingly with each breath. Wide hips. A fit, streamlined frame with only enough pudge to hide the outlines of her muscles. Her dark skin contrasts with the bright gold of her understated jewelry; a pendant around her neck, and a lone bracer around her right wrist.
At the best of times, Melanie finds her boss imposing. Today, she finds her nightmarish – something that pleases Maya to no end.
Without a word, Maya pushes her mug across the desk. It’s a cheap, white porcelain one. Nobody ever liked her enough to buy her a commemorative mug.
“I’m… not supposed to-” Melanie stutters, glancing down at her belly. But Maya’s glare and raised eyebrow are enough to put the fear of God into her secretary, and she brings the mug to her lips.
It’s sweet. Too sweet. The milky aftertaste hits her like a death sentence.
“Does that taste like two sugars, no cream to you, Miss Weymouth?”
“N-no, ma’am, it doesn’t.”
“Remind me, Miss Weymouth, when was the last time you disappointed me?”
Melanie recoils. The mug clinks against the desk. She holds on to her stomach. “Three months, ma’am,” she blurts out, as certain as she is hasty.
Maya steeples her fingers. “Two mistakes in three months, Miss Weymouth. And you were on the fast track for a promotion, too… I had all the paperwork ready, in fact.” She gestures towards a nearby dossier.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I really am…”
Maya doesn’t answer. She stands up. A shiver of pleasure spreads across her skin, and a wet plop attracts Melanie’s eyes to the now vacant seat. The massive dildo that rests in its middle of the wooden surface is slick with sweat and lubricant. It wobbles slightly. Lover of juvenile humor that she is, Melanie would have usually found it hilarious, but not today. Today, she can barely muster a smirk.
“Please, ma’am, I-”
“This kind of incompetence cannot and will not be tolerated in this office, Miss Weymouth. But perhaps I could be persuaded to give you another chance.”
It takes Melanie a second to understand; then, as always, her attention trails down from her employer’s cleavage and towards the massive cock that hangs low, half-hidden by the skirt.
“Well? I’m waiting, Miss Weymouth. Do well enough, and I might secure your promotion, after all.”
Maya’s words light a fire under Melanie’s ass, and the girl jumps to her feet, causing her pregnant belly to bounce. She approaches her boss, and the difference between the two becomes apparent. Maya’s height advantage on Melanie is minimal, but where she slouches, her employer stands tall and proud.
Melanie slumps to her knees. She eyes the massive cock. It brings back unpleasant memories. Deep inside, something burns slightly.
She opens her mouth. Strings of saliva connect her jaws. She hesitates. Takes hold of Maya’s cock, and finds it familiarly heavy. She leans closer. Already the musky scent fills her nostrils, and the plentiful precum soaks her hands.
“Miss Weymouth?”
Maya’s voice rings with authority, and so Melanie responds. She looks up and is met with a wicked grin.
“Y-yes, ma’am?”
“How have I put up with you this long?”
Screams echo through the office. Heads poke out from behind cubicle dividers. Some listen with horror-stricken features, others with morbid fascination. The screech quickly fades, replaced by wet slurping and rapid gulps, all punctuated by a loud and resonant “aah!”
For a moment, silence. Then, low grumbles, so powerful that they reverberate through the building. One by one, the employees disappear into their cubicles, scrambling back to work. They are a ragtag bunch. All female. Most of them pregnant. All of them aware of Maya Patterson’s two-strike policy.
One mistake, and she fills you up. Two, and you fill her.
One stands – the new girl, Talia. Young and lively, fair-skinned and brown-haired. Naïve-looking. She straightens the pile of papers in her hands, adjusts herself. Tugs on her underwear to give her balls some wiggle room. Takes a deep breath. Beelines for the boss’s office. Knocks.
Maya awaits her, leaning back on her chair. Her unbuttoned suit allows her colossal belly to bulge over her desk. It groans and moans. Hands press against it from inside, stretching it even further.
Melanie lies in a bubbling pool, half-awake. It is pitch black, sweltering; the air is asphyxiating in its acridity. Though roomy at first when compared to the boss’s gullet, the alcove twitches and contracts around her. It pulsates. She pushes the encroaching flesh, makes herself deaf to the thumping beyond. Mere inches separate her from freedom, and still, she can’t release herself. The walls, tensile and wrinkled but no less unforgiving, constrict her body. They force her into a curled position. She hugs her pregnant belly as if the symbolic gesture will keep it safe from the acids that pool around her. She kicks, she struggles, but the walls keep closing in and churning. Melanie thinks she has no effect on her boss; she is wrong. It’s just not the effect she hoped for.
Outside, Maya purrs in contentment. The more her prey wiggles, the hornier she feels. She pats her gut, absolutely loving all of it. The struggles, the tears, the nice plumpness of her meal – it’s a treat to savor and cherish. The pregnant ones are always the best ones. They’re not just more filling; they also fight with more gusto.
Sweat glistens on Maya’s skin. Her lips are parted, her tongue lolls out. She grinds her ass on her seat, bouncing up and down on her dildo. Her cock pushes up on her paunch, the strength of her erection enough to lift even its overwhelming weight. It dribbles its eagerness all over her very, very important paperwork.
Her gut contracts. It jiggles. Its vibrations spread through her body and make her twitch with pleasure.
The sight of it alone makes the new girl blush. She finds her breath heavy and her skin crawling. Not just with fear, either.
One final bounce, one loud gurgle. Her gut slams down on the desk. Her ass slams down on the dildo. Maya throws her head back, and her braided hair whips through the air. Her massive cock throbs and twitches. She thrusts her hips forward. Her seed shoots across the desk, staining the expensive Persian carpet.
As she regains her breath, she turns her lust-filled eyes towards the new girl. Her tongue runs over her lips suggestively. Her fingers dance over her stomach. “And you are?”
“Talia Stevens, ma’am. I’m the new intern,” the girl mumbles through staggered breaths. “I had, uh, a few papers for you to look over?”
“Can you work a coffee machine, Miss Stevens?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Maya grins. “Move your things to Miss Weymouth’s office. Congratulations on your promotion. You’re on the fast track to success, Miss Stevens.”
It hits Talia out of nowhere. She hugs the papers, almost dropping them on the stain at her feet. Incoherent muttering slowly shapes itself into a proper thank you, but Maya waves her off dismissively. Talia nods and takes a step back – then stops herself.
“Oh, I almost forgot, ma’am.”
Maya raises an eyebrow. “Mhm?”
“There is someone outside who wanted to see you. I think Melanie, er, Miss Weymouth was meaning to let you know, but…”
“Huh,” Maya mutters, rapping her fingers on her desk. “Send them in. You are dismissed, Miss Stevens. Oh, and call cleaning services. It looks as if Miss Weymouth has made a mess in my office. Again.”
Talia nods. She considers saluting, but the boss might not appreciate it. Many an employee has found herself in Maya’s gut, or ass, or balls, by acting cute around her.
After placing down her documents on a slightly less sticky corner of her boss’s desk, Talia hurries off, leaving Maya alone with her thoughts, her prey, and her mug. The boss watches her go and sips on her now lukewarm coffee. She raises an eyebrow in appreciation. She wasn’t expecting cream on coffee to be such an easily acquired taste.
_______________________________________________________
“Brenna Jorunn.”
“And you’re from upper management?”
“Indeed.”
The receptionist peeks over her monitor and admires the impressive specimen across the counter from her. Busy checking her clipboard, the horse doesn’t notice - or pretends to not notice - the wandering eyes.
She is strong. Dignified. Both matronly and virile, and, appropriately enough, hung like a horse. Very tall, massive even. She leans forward over the counter, and still, she is a few heads taller than anyone else in the premises, or, in fact, anyone the receptionist has ever seen. A wild beast comes to mind - raw and unbridled sexuality rocking formal business attire. She smells of both expensive cologne and musk. She reminds the receptionist of her boss, in a way – if the boss was a good deal more imposing, and much, much taller. And a horse.
“Please take a seat, ma’am, while you wait. I understand your business here is important, but Miss Stevens is quite busy.”
Brenna glances around. The plastic seats that line the walls do not impress her. They don’t even look like they’d withstand her weight. Two metal doors lead to the offices proper; a revolving one leads to the busy streets. Before her, the receptionist all but hides behind her counter, barely waist-high to Brenna. The horse feels like a giant in a playground; then again, she almost always does.
“I see,” Brenna finally says, as matter-of-factly as humanly possible. “You will, of course, understand if I have my lunch here in the waiting room. I had to skip breakfast in order to make it here on time.”
“Of course, ma’am. Feel free t- eek!”
It all happens too fast. The horse slams her hands on the counter and swings her body forward. The monitor shatters against the floor, and the receptionist recoils in surprise. The horse’s mouth opens, and immediately snaps shut around the woman’s shoulders. The force of her swallow lifts the poor receptionist from her seat; the same legs that were a moment ago so seductively crossed, now comically kick around in the air. Muffled screams echo in Brenna’s insides, closed fists thump harmlessly against her throat.
It is hard for Brenna to not get a sense of catharsis from gulping up the receptionist. Seeing their plastic smiles fade into terror, turning the tables on their dismissive attitudes. They tend to taste good, too – they groom themselves well, usually pick scented perfumes that have subtle scents. This one has a robust flavor to her, with a hint of peach hanging about her clothes. Perhaps too much hairspray for Brenna’s taste, but as they say, hunger is the best seasoning of all – and the horse is famished.
So famished, in fact, that she spends precious little time actually savoring her morsel.
Brenna throws her head back and gulps, her maw widening even more. Just as quickly as it started, it is all over.
The weight moves down her gullet. It slides into her stomach. Her center of gravity shifts ever so slightly, and with it comes the satisfying sense of fullness that the horse so craves. Her gut is stiff even as it’s filled, compressing the human form within to its smallest possible shape. There is not a hint of looseness to it; Brenna slaps it, and rather than ripple, it quakes. Powerful abs, under a thin layer of fur, flex beneath the black rayon of her suit.
She takes a look around.
An intern freezes under her glare like a deer in headlights. Across the room, another visitor looks up from her magazine and gasps.
“Aah, that takes some of the edge off. But I still have some room for more…”
One tries to run. The other tries to appeal to Brenna’s better nature. Neither stands a chance.
_______________________________________________________
“I was told to wait by someone named Miss Weymouth,” Brenna says, after writing a few footnotes. “That was”- she checks her phone –“twenty-three minutes ago. I am a busy woman, Miss Stevens. I do not appreciate being made to wait.”
Talia nods nervously. The elevator the two are sharing is starting to feel very claustrophobic. Between the empty lobby when she came looking for her, to the fact that her massive gut bubbles and quakes right next to Talia’s ear, the girl is relatively sure the horse is one to tread carefully around. Every now and then, she swears she can hear a moan between the groans and gurgles of digestion…
“I’m sorry, Miss Jotun.”
“Jorunn.”
“Miss Jorunn,” Talia corrects herself. “Miss Weymouth was, uh, disciplined.”
Brenna tilts her head. “Disciplined?”
“The boss ate her.”
“Ah, I feared as much,” the horse nods, “we have been receiving a lot of complaints. It is, in fact, the reason I am here. Unwarranted terminations in this department have been causing upper management some problems. The workforce is unhappy. Turnover rates are skyrocketing, we are bleeding trained personnel, and we cannot replace them fast enough. It’s causing a minor crisis upstairs, if I might be so candid.”
“…oh.”
Ding.
The elevator doors slide open. Talia watches with interest as the small crowd waiting for it is quick to part at the sight of Brenna. They avoid her like they would avoid Maya. Interesting, but not unexpected. The horse’s mere presence demands respect.
The hooves tap loudly against the tiled floor. They draw their way to the boss’s office. Like a shark swimming in a shoal of fish, employees and visitors alike hurry to stand aside as the horse walks by. On the way, Brenna is attentive. She towers over all, and makes good use of her height advantage by peering into every cubicle. A picture of the boss’s method is starting to form. Most of the girls cradle large bellies as they type. Some are barely visible, mere humps on ill-fitting business-casual attire; others bulge considerably, mere weeks short of birth.
But her scanning is not just a matter of keeping tabs on Maya’s transgressions. Brenna is window-shopping, and soon her eyes rest on a voluptuous young woman, leaning back on her seat and typing away at something that looks suspiciously like an online chatroom. Unlike the others, her tummy is flat; only her cleavage and hips test the limits of her dress.
Without as much as slowing her gait, Brenna simply reaches into the cubicle and casually plucks the girl out of it. The terrified screams don’t even register to the horse’s ears. She’s heard it all before; it’s old news. The slacker soon vanishes into Brenna’s maw; with a decisive and dismissive gulp, silence reigns in the office again, save for the desperate typing.
They reach the ornate wooden door. Maya Patterson, a brass plaque reads. The big bad bitch, someone carved under it. Maya does not suffer vandalism lightly, but it seems that she made an exception for this one. Probably because it sends a message.
Talia steps forward and moves to knock, but Brenna shakes her head. With a nod, she instructs the girl to step aside and opens the door herself.
There’s quite the show going on. They only catch the final glimpse of it, but what they just walked into is as clear as it is damning.
Maya lowers herself onto the sweat-slick body of a pale brunette. The girl is naked, twitching in pleasure and pain, on the boss’s chair. She bounces up and down on the dildo, and Maya bounces up and down on her. Meanwhile, another girl trembles as she wipes the floor with a crusty mop, all under the boss’s hungry glare. Even as she pleasures herself with another’s body, Maya is already on the hunt for her next meal. Scrutinizing every gesture, listening to every breath - she is waiting for something. A mistake, however small. Any excuse to administer punishment. To add a second course to an already filling lunch.
Brenna barging in puts a stop to that, of course. Once the horse steps in, Maya freezes for just a moment, then lowers herself fully onto her victim. A yelp of surprise resonates through her intestines, then her gut, then the air around her; muffled, but no less terrified. Her body shudders, skin flushing red with lust. The girl trapped underneath her ass is hastily and unceremoniously slurped up; she will have to witness the meeting from Maya’s digestive tract.
Maya basks in the afterglow for a moment; only after Brenna clears her throat does she remember she has guests. The boss’s eyebrow twitches slightly, and her tone rings with poorly concealed annoyance. She does not appreciate this kind of interruption. “Yes?”
“Brenna Jorunn. Upper management. We have spoken through e-mail.”
Everything about Maya shifts. She leans over her desk, and her lips curl into a forced, mirthless smile. Her tone turns civil; subservient, even. “Ah, Brenna. It’s a pleasure! What brings you here? Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea? Maybe a snack?”
Brenna does not reply. She looks around, mumbles to herself, then pulls out a pen and scribbles something else on her clipboard. “I’ve seen everything I need to see.” She flips through the pages. “Let me just confirm what I’m authorized to- oh! Wonderful!”
Talia blinks. She glances at the other girl who has since scooted her way closer, and now stands beside her, mop in hand. Brenna’s little outburst, seemingly so out-of-character for such a consummate professional, fills Talia with both dread and anticipation.
She has an idea of what’s going to happen. And she loves it. She elbows the janitor’s arm. “This is going to be good,” she whispers.
Brenna approaches the desk and reaches over it, her hands resting firmly on Maya’s shoulders. Whatever little smugness was left in the boss’s features is now gone. There is only concern.
The horse’s firm grip forces Maya onto her feet. Brenna circles the desk. Maya finds herself pressed against the window; the same window against which she ‘disciplined’ so many employees. She tries to push back, but is frozen with fear; one can only wonder how much pressure the glass can take before shattering.
It’s a new feeling, this relative powerlessness. She’s got nothing over Brenna. The horse is higher up on both the hierarchy and the food chain. She is taller, stronger. Maya fears this. It’s new. It’s humiliating. It’s… hot.
Brenna pushes a finger to Maya’s lips and grins. She lifts that same finger, and in an elaborate movement, lowers it onto a button on the desk. Click.
Every speaker on the building springs to life. Static blasts out, lowering into a droning hum. Brenna taps the microphone, and the reverberation echoes through the offices.
Brenna leans forward. Her tits push against Maya’s shoulders. Her nostrils flare eagerly. A long, sloppy tongue emerges. It explores Maya’s features, tastes her skin. It finds her lips and parts them. It plunges deep into her mouth, coaxing the first moan out of her.
While their tongues fight for dominance, a similar conflict takes place below the waist. Their cocks pushed against each other. Both hard, both eager, both huge – but one overwhelmingly more so.
Brenna grins. Her grip moves up to Maya’s throat. Her free hand crawls down her body. Slides under her skirt. Takes hold of her erection. Squeezes gently, and hears her prey’s wistful sigh.
“I have heard you like impregnating your employees, Miss Patterson,” Brenna purrs. “Let’s see how you can satisfy me, then.”
Their heads rub together. Slick. Dripping. Brenna aligns them. A string of saliva oozes down the side of her mouth. Her already empty stomach groans, demanding to be filled. Soon enough, soon enough.
She thrusts. Maya’s cock slides right into hers. Balls deep. And still, it only reaches half of Brenna’s length.
“You barely fill me,” the horse says in a mocking tone.
She thrusts again and again. Wet squelches fill the air. Maya’s cock disappears into Brenna’s, only to reappear again, throbbing and dribbling. In the horse’s grip, she slowly melts. So much for the big bad bitch.
Slam! Slam! Slam! Sweat droplets splatter. Their body heat forms condensation on the glass. Brenna’s cock feels better than any mouth, any pussy, any ass. It’s tight inside. Slick. It does not give; it fights back against her insertion. It takes Maya to a whole new realm of pleasure. One of obedience. One where she is the toy. And she loves it. She wants to give in to it. The shame feels good.
Slam!
A gasp and some spit fly out of Maya’s gaping mouth. Her spine arcs and bends; her muscles twitch. She shudders with arousal. She finally gives in, and her thick cream sprays into Brenna’s own erection, which tenses and flexes and takes it all in. The horse’s balls sag, pumped with seed, what looks like gallons of it. But she just smirks.
“Is that all you have to give?”
Maya is released. The glass squeaks against her skin as she glides down to the floor, her knees too weak to support her weight, her cock still twitching and dripping. She crumbles to a sad pile, and Brenna watches over her, arms crossed.
“Here, let me show you how it’s really done.”
Maya wheezes. A moan of pain escapes her throat; Brenna has her by the hair. The horse tugs on the rope of her braids, and Maya obediently follows her lead. Back onto her trembling knees. Turned around. Slammed against the window. Sex-crazed, burning up. Her tongue lolls out, dripping saliva over her chest. Tears mix with sweat as they ran down her cheek. Her suit’s buttons burst and her tits flatten against the screen. In her lowest moment, she is presented for the entire world to see. And the humiliation only arouses her further.
The horse tugs on the human’s reins. Delights in her whines and grunts. Smiles. Bucks her hips.
“That girl you just shoved up your ass… if she isn’t just mush by now, she’s at least going out with a taste of the best cock in the business.”
Her cock parts Maya’s cheeks. The head teases the puckered asshole. Slides up and down, provides steady pressure. Its abundant precum lubricates the hole, prepares it for entrance. Brenna takes her time. Builds anticipation. Feels Maya’s ebony skin burn up against her thighs. Pressing down. Pleading.
Brenna grants her wish.
“Aaah!”
Maya’s scream graces the ears of every employee she ever impregnated as punishment. Friends of her previous meals bear witness to the boss’s humiliation. There is a sick sense of satisfaction to be had in her pleasurable pain. Catharsis in hearing her being put in her place.
Brenna can almost hear the cheering as she fucks her prey silly. Her balls slap against Maya’s ass with each thrust. Her fat cock digs deep, stretching the hole to its limits, splitting Maya to the point of pain. Along Brenna’s length, she feels the entire spectrum of texture and tightness. The generous asshole that rubs her cock down to its base; the deeper confines that squeeze and push, and finally, brushing up against her glans, something wet and squishy, stirred up by her thrusts. It’s the girl – softened up, but still alive. It makes for a layered sensation; that of fucking two people at the same time.
Maya, meanwhile, steadily melts to the overwhelming pleasure. The horse’s cock is out of this world. It’s hot, it’s slick, it throbs; it scratches the deepest itch Maya has ever felt and then some. The blood that pumps through its veins tickles at her walls. Her previous meal sloshes about her large intestine, stirred up by Brenna’s shaft – sending wave after wave of orgasmic bliss throughout her body.
It’s painful, it’s numbing, it’s humiliating and addictive; the world around her blurs and sharpens, bounces and shifts to the rhythm of Brenna’s fucking. The window creaks under their combined weight. Outside, traffic has stopped. Bystanders peer upwards, pointing, some snapping pictures with their phones. They will be all over the internet soon enough. That’s how Maya will be remembered: the slavish little slut who took a horse’s cock to the ass in front of everyone.
She feels Brenna’s hot breath against her back. “Let’s give them the show they want,” the horse whispers, and finally lets loose.
The next thrust breaks Maya. It’s too big, goes too deep, and moves too fast. The waves of pleasure go into overdrive, and she loses all semblance of rationality. She surrenders. She can’t stand it anymore. She needs it, needs it so bad up her ass. She sways, matching her movements with Brenna’s own, working herself to the beat. Her world begins and ends with Brenna’s cock. She wants it in deeper. Faster. Her walls clench around it, milking every bit of pleasure out of its burning heat.
Sweat-soaked clothes cling to her frissoned skin. Roiling precum warms her insides. Her cock throbs, ready to explode again. Her limbs lost their strength and her brain, its functions.
Brenna bites her lip. She’s in control. Her white fur is seamless. Her muscles are tense, and a vein throbs on her forehead – but she has not lost herself like Maya has. Instinct guides her actions. It times her slams, calibrates her movements, but she rules over it.
Brenna smirks; it’s time to take this game into overdrive. She pulls out. Her cock pulsates, twitches, the blood in its vein roars. She is at her limits. A single touch will take her over the edge. This, she knows.
She grabs Maya’s ass. Pinches hard. Spreads her cheeks, exposing her gaping asshole, leaking precum. The corner of her lip curls upwards. She lines up her cock, moves back… and, with all her remaining strength, thrusts. The floodgates open. Thick cum pours out of her cock, pumping into Maya, who too loses control and splatters her seed on the glass. Down on street level, more pictures are taken. At this point, Maya no longer cares.
Jizz continues to shoot up into her intestines. It fills her to the brim, burns her from the inside. Her gut bulges out, flat against the glass, jiggling like jelly. Maya twitches. Two different consistencies mix inside her. Her own seed, thin and watery – and Brenna’s, thick, heavy cream.
The horse lets go of the reins. Her ride is wasted, broken, humiliated. She pulls out and watches Maya crumble to the floor once more.
“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it,” Brenna says. “Typical. ‘Big bad bitch.’ Please.”
She dusts herself off. Tugs on the hems of her skirt. Straightens herself up. The beast is gone. The professional has returned. She pulls out her clipboard. Adds a few notes. Wraps it up with a signature. Clears her throat.
“Miss Maya Patterson,” she says. “By order of the board of directors, you are thereby relinquished from your position as branch manager for gross misconduct.”
Brenna picks the once feared Boss by the neck. She lifts her up until they’re eye to eye. Brenna, imposing and dignified, stoic. Maya, a weeping, lust-addled mess in white-strained clothes and bloated with seed.
“This area is for employees only. I am afraid you are trespassing. I am therefore authorized to take drastic measures to remove you from the premises.” She smirks. “Goodbye, Maya.”
Her cock is still hard. Its head rubs against Maya’s feet. The same member that filled the former boss now demands to be filled, itself. Brenna lowers Maya towards it, but she barely reacts. She’s too conflicted. Too horny. Too weak and tired. Her attempts to wiggle out are token at best. If anything, they just make her slide in more easily. Still, she mumbles. Under her breath, she curses Brenna.
Brenna doesn’t care. Where her grip once fought gravity, now it works in tandem with it, pushing Maya down into her shaft, feeding her to it. Trapping her within Brenna’s powerful cock muscles.
Her erection expands. It rolls over the body of her victim. Sperm dribbles down its length, displaced from her balls by the large insertion. She bucks up her hips, flexes her cock – and slurps Maya down.
She crosses her arms and watches the curvaceous bulge on her cock move down. She delights in the tingling of her sack as it fills with a limp weight. She even grins at the weak struggling within, the hand prints on the doughy surface, the sloshing and churning.
Brenna smiles. Interns, CEOs… once trapped in her balls, everyone churns up the same. She can’t even tell the difference at this point. For all their delusions of power and grandeur, in the end, they’re all just corporate pawns – fit only to be cogs in the machine, or to melt away inside her balls.
The seed inside her roils and bubbles. It rises around Maya’s curled up form. It sticks to her skin, coating it in white.
The former boss thrashes about, but everything is too slick. She can’t get a grip. The soft skin around her ripples and crinkles up. Squelches against her body. The viscous fluid that coats her is too hot. Searing hot. She feels like she’s stewing alive as the mass of flowing white around her sloshes back and forth, forming massive waves. Her extremities grow fuzzy. Her skin, soft and malleable. The walls that entrap her squeeze and compress. With each passing second, it gets harder to tell where she starts, and the jizz begins. Soon, it will be impossible.
Brenna stretches. Her bones crackle and pop satisfyingly. She snaps her fingers and beckons Talia closer with a come-hither motion. The secretary approaches, both hesitant and fascinated; the horse doesn’t even need to tell her what she is expected to do.
Talia massages the horse’s sack. It’s plump and squishy. The heat it exudes warms her hands. She squeezes and smushes it. Underneath, thick cum flows with each push. It’s like a stress ball. Relaxing. It’s hard to imagine that, somewhere in there, her former employer is melting away...
The building stands on edge. The speakers are on. Every sound – every pound, every whimper, every gulp – has been broadcasted. Now Maya’s grumblings have gone silent. There is only the rumbling. The sloshing. Brenna’s perfunctory grunt.
Then, it erupts. Applause. It quakes through the offices. Employees cheer. They whistle. They get up from their seats and dance and laugh. Someone sings a slightly altered rendition of Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead. Others join in. Soon, everyone is singing.
Amongst the clamor, Brenna pulls the plug on the microphone. Nobody notices.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”
The janitor still stands in the corner. She’s been watching it all with almost childlike awe. There is joy in her smile and lust in her eyes, and yet she cowers.
Brenna snaps her out of it with a single tsk. Both the janitor and Talia – her hands still pressing to the horse’s balls - jump to attention. Their pupils are dilated, their muscles tense. Talia crosses her legs, embarrassedly trying to hide her erect cock from view. The janitor’s uniform pants are soaked dark. Both of them wheeze and pant.
“You,” Brenna points at the janitor, “here, now.”
The janitor obeys. Her uniform pants rustle as she sheepishly approaches. Her cheeks burn a bright red; her eyes are wide with alarm. “Ma’am?”
“Name?”
“P-paula, ma’am.”
The horse nods with disinterest. Opens her maw. Her breath is hot, intoxicating. It washes over the janitor, who shudders. She knows. She takes a step back and stumbles, but something blocks her way. She looks over her shoulder.
It’s Talia, who shrugs dismissively. “Better you than me. Sorry, Paula.”
A forceful pull turns the prey back towards her predator. The horse’s teeth glisten, her tongue slobbers and her gullet expands, ready to be filled.
There are tears in the girl’s eyes. “Please, don’t…”
Brenna’s response is simple and to the point – she shoves the head in her mouth. Her lips wrap around the woman’s neck. Slurp. Gulp.
Brenna swallows. Her tongue guides her meal in. She has no trouble taking in the breasts, which she pokes and probes with the tip of her tongue, delighting in their squishiness. Even the wide hips slide down the hatch with ease, giving her throat a satisfying lump. She wraps her tongue around her victim’s inner thigh, giving her drooling pussy a parting lick and enjoying its sharp, creamy taste; finally, with one decisive gulp, the feet disappear into her gullet.
Gone. All gone. Brenna’s stomach stretches to take in her prey’s mass; it rolls over the desk, quaking for a moment before finally settling. Brenna exhales sharply, slams a fist into her bloated gut, and its contents whimper sadly. She smiles, politely covers her mouth as she lets out an enormous burp, and shakes her head.
“A true shame that we could not stop Miss Patterson from devouring that poor, hardworking girl. Don’t you agree, Miss Stevens?”
“Wholeheartedly, Miss Jorunn.”
“Please, Brenna will do,” she says, extending a hand for Talia to shake. “And congratulations on your promotion to Chief of Department, Miss Stevens. I look forward to working with you in the future.”
Talia blinks. Letting her heart guide her actions, she takes Brenna’s hand and shakes it. The horse’s grip is tight and firm, and she does her best to match it, but by the time she lets go, her hand is very, very sore.
Brenna takes her clipboard, adjusts her outfit, and wipes some white from her left cheek. The two part ways with a shared conspiratorial nod.
Once Brenna takes her leave and the doors slam shut, Talia looks around at the office that is now hers, and smiles. With slow and deliberate steps, she circles the desk, making sure to not get her fancy shoes anywhere near the cum stains on the floor; she places a hand on the backrest of the boss’s chair. The dildo strapped to it stands erect, still warm and pungent from use. She lowers herself onto it, moaning as the hot, slick mass of silicone buries deep into her ass. Her cheeks flatten against the seat, and her arms rest on the desk. This is it. She is in charge.
She plugs the microphone back in. Taps it twice. Clears her throat.
“Good afternoon, girls. This is Talia Stevens, and I’m your new boss, here to replace Maya Patterson, who has been sacked! Karma’s a bitch, huh?” She pauses for drama. “I’m so excited to get to meet you all, you have no idea.”
“In the meanwhile, someone bring me a coffee.” Her lip curls upwards, into a mischievous grin. “Two sugars, no cream.”