Coworer Complications

Thursday,

Ryan woke with a start, phone pressed to his chest, dead from the night before. He'd fallen asleep clutching it, lost in a haze of lust after jerking off, yet again, to the video of Megan from the truth-or-dare night, her on her knees, blowing Carson, JP, and Cory, their cocks disappearing into her mouth one by one. A background tab on his phone shown her latest pics: Tyrone, that alley creep, now a patient at Home Away From Home. He thought, how the fuck did that happen as he stared at image of the once homeless cock buried balls-deep in his loves now tainted throat, her naked body glistening, eyes teary but locked on the camera. His mind had spiraled through the sleepless night--what the hell was happening at her work? How did Tyrone end up there? What led to her deepthroating him, fully nude and willing? His cock stirred again, a traitor, as he rehashed the thoughts that tormented him through the night as he plugged the phone in to get some juice before he heads out. He dressed fast--wrinkled shirt, slacks--knowing she'd stumble home from her night shift after he left for Melvin Marvin Maxwell & Associates. But, then there was another night shift tonight, which meant he wouldn't see her until tomorrow evening, maybe, if she wasn't too wiped. The weekend felt distant, and dread gnawed at him.

He grabbed toast and stale coffee, then checked his phone--20%--and froze. Texts from Megan, sent during her early morning baths while his phone was dead. First: a selfie, some fat, disgusting old white guy she named John, grinning over a tub, cumming into her open mouth, her arm stretched for the selfie, the other hand dipping toward her crotch--or so it seemed, a crude white rectangle censored her from her boobs down. Text: "John's been good, so he gets a reward! xo." Second set: POV capturing a downward angle of another disgustingly old and obese body, the message, typed seemingly by this next patient, read in sloppy form:

"hey ryan

bart here thanks for your girls lips

she gives me the will to live

I promise I will be on my best behavior!!!!"

The attached pics showed her clearly nude in the tub, back arched, head buried in his crotch, then pulling off, smiling wide with cum pooling on her tongue--censored below her collarbone again. A final text from her: "Can't wait to see you tomorrow after work, hope I'm not too sleepy! Miss you. Enjoy these. Carson's video from our date's coming soon. Push him for it when you see him work!"

Ryan groaned, shoving the phone in his pocket, his cock rock-hard again. His worst fears were confirmed--she was becoming a toy for every wrinkly bastard at that place. Marvin, John, Bart, Tyrone--huge cocks, twice his four inches, stretching her throat while she thought it was for him; he would never even reach her throat. He paced, furious at his boner, at the wait for it to fade. He would surely be late for work now. At least Tyrone wouldn't taunt him on the way to work anymore--a small win. Once it softened, he grabbed his bag and bolted, the five-block walk to the firm a grim march.

The office buzzed as he slumped at his desk, the small window framing a gray NYC sliver. His phone sat at 19% when he plugged it in, pics burning in his mind. A knock rattled his open glass door--the front secretary, her tone polite but firm. "Sorry, Ryan, I had to make a note. You were fifteen minutes late today." She turned to leave, clipboard in hand, and he didn't bother chasing her down. Never late in three years, not once, but this mess with Megan--phone dead from no charge, alarm silent, boner stalling him--had finally done it. One slip over fifteen minutes, and the log got a mark; he knew the drill without her saying it.

"Gotta run, setting up for Ken's meeting," she called over her shoulder, cutting off his half-mumbled excuse about the phone. He sank back, wondering what storm was brewing today. Carson's office sat empty next door--no smug grin, no booming laugh. Then his email pinged--Randy, a senior associate, summoning him over "re: lateness." Ryan trudged across the hall, eyeing Ken's massive glass corner office opposite Randy's door--full windows, a king's perch. Inside Randy's smaller space, Carson stood, all grins, flashing Ryan a quick smirk before turning back to Ken, who was shaking his hand, teeth bared in a rare, animated smile. Carson's task was done, no doubt, while Ryan braced for a slap on the wrist, exhaustion from Megan's cock-filled night still dragging at him.

Randy waved him in, voice calm. "Look, Ryan, you've never been late before, and your work's decent. But you're coasting--need to step it up." He nodded toward Carson, visible through the glass, basking in Ken's glow. "Be more like him. Kid's got something--I've never seen Ken treat a junior like that." Ryan's gut twisted, jealousy flaring. He knew this spiel--HR's slow-firing script, logging every misstep, backing up his files before the axe fell. But a flicker of relief hit too--fired, he could flee, drag Megan away from Carson's claws. Then his phone buzzed: Carson. He glanced up, catching Carson's glare, Ken now on the phone. The text read: "just fucking say yes to everything and nod your head, make it fucking convincing, I did you a big favor, if you fuck this up, I will end you."

Ryan blinked, thrown, as Randy's tone shifted, no longer soft. "Here at Melvin Marvin Maxwell, we expect the most from our juniors. You haven't shown it yet. If you want a future here, turn it up a notch or two. Get to work." Ryan nodded, dazed, and shuffled out. Carson pointed at him from Randy's office; Ken looked over, smiling, then stepped to his door, beckoning him in with a hearty pat on the back.

"So, Ryan, right?" Ken's voice boomed, warm but edged. "Carson filled me in--how critical you were to his operation. He saved our asses. Your fiancée's boss is coming in today to hand over his boss for a legal crucifixion. Thank you for giving Carson the breadcrumbs--smart thinking, getting her to do that on camera in front of that piece of shit. We reward sacrifice here at Marvin Maxwell and Melvin. Assuming this sticks, you're an associate, second behind Carson. Normally you sharks don't share credit, so that speaks to his character."

Now sitting, Ken chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his gray eyes glinting. "So all along, you had a bigger grudge against that place than we did, huh?"

Ryan, Carson's text flashing in his mind, stammered, "Uh, yessir."

Ken's grin widened. "Well, that grudge really worked out in our favor. You picked the right man to confide in. I wouldn't tell a soul if that was happening to my missus--well, maybe if I was a junior associate." He paused, rubbing his chin, then barked a laugh. "Actually, I'd just be in jail for murder, but to each their own. Either way, getting her to put on that show to pull her boss in and yap on camera? Fucking brilliant. Some twisted shit."

Ryan, lost for words, managed a weak, "Thank you, sir."

Ken clapped his hands once, sharp and final. "Alright, that piece of shit should be showing up any second. Carson, you're with me. Ryan, stay in your office--I don't want you pulling out a gun and shooting this man before we get what we need outta him. Ha! Maybe I should have security at your door--just joking." The speaker on his desk chirped, a crisp voice cutting through: "He's here." Ken's eyes lit up, predatory. "Alright, to war."

Ken and Carson strode out, heading for the main meeting room. Randy passed Ryan in the hall, shooting him a confused squint after witnessing the exchange, his brows knitting like he'd missed a memo. Ryan trailed behind, catching a glimpse through the meeting room's glass walls--big cameras on tripods, a microphone perched on the sprawling table, and a tray of donuts, powdered and glistening, set out to make Kevin feel at home. His mind spun--what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? What did Megan do? She did what? Let Kevin see what? Pride swelled at the associate nod--his parents beaming, Megan's giddy smile, the pay bump locking in a high-flying gig forever--but it soured fast. He was stuck here, tethered to Carson. Then it clicked: Carson didn't want him ousted, didn't want Megan slipping free. Fuck. He shuffled into his office, the door clicking shut behind him.

Four long hours later, near day's end, claps echoed down the hall. Ryan peeked out--Carson swaggered toward him, smug as hell, waving to junior associates, secretaries, and minions clapping his victory lap. He slipped into Ryan's office, shutting the door with a soft thud. "I bet you have a lot of questions. Just zip it--I'll fill you in."

Nearly 40 minutes later, Ryan sat sweating from the story's intensity, erect behind his desk, the bulge in his slacks hidden as his mind painted the scene: Megan, fully naked, on her knees, deepthroating Tyrone's cock--not just under the 4K security cameras Kevin was apparently jacking off to, but Carson's hidden recorder too. Then Kevin barging in, barking at her to bend over, spread her cheeks wide for Tyrone, himself, and Carson's lens--her slick pussy and tight asshole opening from the spread, a detail he felt could have been left out. Carson had laid it all out, from the date, to the alleyway scuffle, to the covert sex sting at Home Away form Home, and Ryan's dick throbbed at the betrayal. At least, there is now clarity. The whole story tracked with Megan's, brief texts, her remarks at home, and of course the pics--her throat stuffed, cum dripping--but the scale stunned him

Carson leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grinning. "Ken just texted. The chairman--apparently another sick perv--rolled in with their legal team. Board signed off firing Johnson, plus a malpractice check for ninety million bucks." The crispness from those words' last syllable rung through Ryan's spine.

Ryan's jaw dropped. Ninety million? After the glow from the thoughts of a load of money being delivered on a pallet cleared, his gut churned, anger and arousal clashing as the images from the story rushed back into his head. Tyrone's filthy hands on her in the ally, infested dick forced down her throat, but Carson's punch soothed it some. He swallowed, voice low but real. "Even though this all comes from your fucked-up plan with Megan, I guess... thanks for at least knocking Tyrone out."

Carson chuckled, dark and sharp. "And I got to force him to do my bidding with that camera--threatened jail if he didn't. You don't often get to crack a skull then flip it into legal leverage." He straightened, cutting the camaraderie short, keeping their alpha-beta line firm. "But if I'd given Tyrone the choice--stay in that alley or get cracked and land under Megan's care for years--I bet he'd take the punch grinning."

Ryan's eyes widened, concern spiking. "Wait, you think Megan'll still have a job there after this?"

"Yeah," Carson said, shrugging. "Actually, it is part of the deal. Home Away From Home stays as is--just minus Johnson and ninety mil. Megan's protected, no reprimands. Kevin too. They both get raises. Congrats, man--your future's set in this overpriced city before you even tie the knot, and now you can afford it. You're here to stay."

Ken's head popped in, grin wide. "Join us."

Ryan stood, legs shaky, and followed Carson out. The hall buzzed--claps still rippling, eyes on them. Ken led them to the meeting room, glass walls framing the aftermath: cameras off, mic stashed, donut tray half-empty, powdered sugar dusting the table. Kevin was gone, the deal done. Ken clapped Carson's shoulder, then Ryan's, voice booming. "You two pulled off a goddamn miracle. Ninety mil, and I get to mount Johnson head on my office wall--fucking beautiful."

Carson smirked, basking, while Ryan nodded, his mind wouldn't quit--Megan's naked body, Tyrone's cock, Kevin's orders, cameras rolling. Ninety million was huge, but it was her pics debasement, his humiliation, that anchored it, her naive trust twisted into their win. He hated it, loved it, hated that he loved it.

Ken kept talking, oblivious. "Ryan, the sacrifice--getting her to play ball on camera? Twisted genius. And that performance in the video, my God, she knows what she is doing. Even when the whole group was in here, with their team all doom and gloom, handing over a 90 million dollar check, we all found common ground with our enjoyment of that video. Associate's yours, kid. Carson's lead, but you're right there."

"Thanks, sir," Ryan mumbled, throat tight. Carson shot him a look--don't fuck this up--and Ryan nodded, convincing as hell, just like the text demanded.

Ken reached into a folder on the table, pulling out two crisp packets of paper, sliding one to Carson and one to Ryan. "Confidentiality agreements," he said, voice clipped now, all business. "Condition of their surrender. Megan and Kevin'll be signing theirs soon too." He leaned back, folding his arms. "That place--Home Away From Home--it's fucked up, no question. But I got assurances she's happy there, and it'll keep chugging along, same twisted mess it's always been. We can't fix every shithole in the world, and I'm not about to try. We got our money, skipped the long trial, no expert witnesses, no more fuckups from you juniors burning billable hours. Done and dusted."

He patted Ryan's back, a heavy thump. "God bless your girl, though--serious balls turning over her boss like that, then waltzing back to work like it's nothing. What a trooper. With Kevin holding his get-out-of-jail-free card, I can't imagine he won't try to work off some of that humiliation. Hell, we all got a laugh, even their lawyers, watching him bust in the bathroom with cum-stained pants on that video--you should've seen him squirm. Give your lady my best."

Carson tensed, eyes flicking to Ryan, bracing for a blowup. He left out a few details, like how the big surrender meeting played the videos baring all to the 30 or so people in the room, not to mention the glass walls hiding much from the rest of the office, sure they don't know who is on the tape, but word gets around. Plus, he left out everything to do with the contract he'd tweaked in Kevin's favor had Megan sign--details he'd kept locked between himself, Kevin, and a half-ignorant Megan, not even Ken was privy to that part. Ryan wasn't very bright, but he spoke enough lawyer to understand the significance, and if he caught wind, he might spill it to Ken out of spite, torching his praise and associate gig in one nuclear meltdown. Carson didn't think Ken would rub the situation into Ryan like that, he braced for he would respond--please just sign the damn agreement.

Ryan's face flushed, blood pressure spiking, eyes glistening with angry tears. Ken's words stung deep--writing him off as a spineless chump, cool with pimping out Megan's dignity in the most degrading ways just to climb the ladder, and hinting he was fine with Kevin still lurking, ready to pounce. The humiliation burned, his fists clenching under the table, vision blurring red.

Ken, oblivious, tapped the agreements. "Hurry up and sign so you can cash these--your bonus checks. Rules are rules: integral to a case's success, position be damned, you get a cut. One percent each, taxes paid." He slapped two checks down, his Harvard ring glinting, a jewel-crusted wedding band flashing beside a multimillion-dollar Rolex hugging his wrist. Ryan's eyes dropped to his name on the paper, then the number: $900,000.00, taxes deducted, clean and final.

----

Friday

Ryan sat bleary-eyed at the kitchen table, red rims circling his sockets, weariness dragging at his bones. Sleep had dodged him all night, his nerves jangling every time his phone pinged. Between 8 and 10 p.m., two sets of texts and pics had rolled in--Megan deepthroating the usual suspects. One was a 15-second clip: Tyrone's rigid dick loomed center-frame, massive black balls dangling below, speckled with ingrown hairs and gray fuzz. Her voice cut in, sharp, "Tyrone, keep my tits out of it--we're not redoing this a tenth time. I'm done picking pubes outta my teeth." Then her head slid into view, mouth wide and hungry, engulfing both balls, lips sealing tight as her jaw shifted, rolling them over her tongue. Tyrone groaned deep, "Fuck, I love this place," before the clip cut off. At 3 a.m., another set hit: a pic snapped by someone else, Megan perched on a desk, legs splayed, fully nude--crude white rectangles placed over her pussy and chest to censor. Beside her, a monitor glowed with security footage, and the point of view to match--her bare back leaning over the tub, servicing Tyrone. Kevin's office, Ryan figured, the computer a dead giveaway, based on Carson's story from earlier. Next pic: her face pinned under Kevin's gut, fat lifted and draped over her head, his cock buried balls-deep, her tongue curling out beneath, licking his sack. Another white square censored what ever was happening between her legs. After a measly 30-minute doze at 6 a.m., Marvin's set of images jolted him awake--more deepthroat shots, censored as always. He gave up, brewed coffee, and stared at his $900,000 check, hoping the numbers could help numb the pain.

At 9 a.m., Megan breezed in, hair a mess, sporting an outfit he'd never seen--Kevin's revenge, no doubt. Maybe a WWII inspired nurse uniform, but with a thigh-high skirt, paired with a button-up blouse that stopped at bra-level, though no bra hugged her curves. She looked proud, oblivious to the act of revenge that she wore, and leapt into his arms. "Tell me the big news, before I share mine!" Ryan, gut sinking at the slutty getup and its implications, forced a thin smile that faltered fast. She cut him off, cooing, "You look like you haven't slept--let me guess," her voice turned cute, "jerking off all night?"

"Yeah, kinda," he muttered, strained. She hopped twice, giddy. "Tyrone said you'd really like the ball-sucking!"

His cock twitched, regret surging as he pushed on. "Guess it'd make more sense if you started. My story's confusing--I'm still wrapping my head around it."

She perked up. "Okay! So, I got a 40% raise--almost 60K more a year! And if I ace patient reviews, 10K quarterly--potentially 40K extra!" Ryan plastered on a shocked, happy face. "That's amazing." She barreled on, "Apparently, Dr. Johnson got canned for malpractice--his family company, and they still axed him. Kevin's running things till they find a new doc. Lots of drama, but Kevin kept me busy--haha, sorry if those 3 a.m. texts woke you." She paused, recalling, to herself, the NDA--lawyers drilling her on what she could say, no mention of the contract even to significant others, $50K penalty and bonuses revoked if she slipped about the contract. "Anyway, new position, I basically can't get fired, guaranteed 5% yearly raise, and I get to wear this cool new uniform, well I have to wear a boring nurse coat going in an out of the facility, not sure why, but when I'm in the secure wing I get to show it off. They basically have me in that wing now for my full shift. Oh, and, I was stressed about Tyrone after his injury, but, by luck, found his way to Home Away from Home. He is way more charming than on the streets. That's about it--your turn! Hurry, I think my caffeine crash is looming."

Ryan steadied himself, voice flat, forcing Tyrone out of mind. "Carson pulled me into the Home Away From Home case. We worked a deal with Kevin to force Johnson to come clean on the malpractice suit. Settled yesterday. And, uh, I made associate."

"What! Oh my god!" She leapt again, arms wrapping him tight; he caught her, her cheek brushing his. A smoky whiff hit--sweaty gym shorts, boxers--clinging to her skin. She squealed, still in his grip, "Wait, wait, don't put me down--close your eyes, shut tight!" He did, and she slid free. "Sorry, no underwear, skirt was bunched up." His stomach lurched--her bare pussy had pressed against his boxers, the hole in front leaving nothing but thin fabric between them. Anger flared at the implication with her uniform, then lust, the thought searing.